


Bridge Over Shallow Water

by UliKulele



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Bullying, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik will struggle in this one, Highschool AU, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Non powered au, Past Homelessness, grieving family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2019-08-07 21:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UliKulele/pseuds/UliKulele
Summary: Charles falls in love with the poems by an anonymous author their teacher starts reading out in class every so often.Erik is the kind of troublemaker one would not expect in honour roll English class- mostly because he hardly ever shows up.We all know where this is going.





	1. Of Books and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> So, I blame any and all English Literatur classes I have to take at uni for this train wreck.  
> I procrastinated my actual poetry interpretation assignments using this, so I hope you people like it to make this worth it.

The thing is that Charles was never much of literature buff. It was not that he disliked reading, since he did love it with an ardent passion, but more so that he never really got the hang of interpreting the meaning of obscure texts and poetry, which to him was basically anything someone would consider “canonical“, old, or even remotedly educational. 

Charles had a thing for novels – the kind that had a suspenseful plot that drew him in so thouroughly that he forgot all about the daily trials and tribulation of his life as an almost aggressively nerdy teenager. More often than not the kind of story Charles found to be suspenseful ended up being some very trashy romance novel he found on the clearance rack of his local second hand book store. He kept them carefully stashed away under his bed in an attempt to keep them from the vicious sneers of his mother‘s new husband and his step brother, Cain, who both would have preferred him to abstain from such “un-manly“ past times. 

Poetry and the old classics however eluded him. He did make a fair effort whenever he was asked to interpret them for an assignment, he had a reputation and a GPA to uphold after all, but he never managed to muster up a lot of enthusiam for it and more often than not those were the kinds of tasks he put off until the very last minute. Sometimes Charles seriously suspected that a lot of the interpretations his textbooks gave were fabricated by scholars with overflowing imaginations or at the very least gave the authors credit for a depth of meaning he was quite sure they never originally intended. He was also entirely convinced that any analysis their teacher, the gruff and somehow not very teacherly Mr Howlett, gave was straight up bullshit that he made up on the spot. 

For the longest time Charles thought that his stance on poetry would never change. Honestly, he was completely fine with that. A lot of people lived long and happy lives without Sylvia Plaths or Walt Whitmans in it.

Until that one fateful afternoon when Mr Howlett, fifteen minutes late with a coffee-to-go mug (Astoundingly the reusable kind, which as it was already surprised Charles as it hinted at a deeper concern for the environment than he would have expected from his teacher, but even more so because it was sparkly pink and read “From Zero To Bitch In 2,5 Seconds“. Nobody was brave enough to crack a joke at it though, as Mr Howlett was frankly quite terrifying. Supposedly the school hired him straight out of prison.) and inexplicably dirty Wellingtons despite it not having rained in a good week or so (Perhaps it was leftovers from a project he worked on with students in his other subject, art. Charles could never quite decide whether he found Howlett to seem less like an English or an Art teacher.) announced that they would read and interpret the poems of this up and coming new author he recently discovered. 

At first the class was less than thrilled at that prospect but Charles for one quickly changed his mind once he read the first few lines. Intriguingly enough, the author was listed as „anonymous“ which at first he found a bit pretentious, but quickly forgot his annoyance about it as he launched into the very pleasant flow of the poem. He was instantly enchanted. Although he couldn‘t quite put his finger on what it was that made this so very different from any other poetry they had discussed in class so far, he felt a deep connection to the melancholy of this.

Charles was never before this excited about getting to write a paper on a piece of literature. His enthusiam nearly rivaled the one he felt when submitting his papers in Biology. -Although in the case of the poem his adoration of the subject matter did not help his mark all that much. Whereas he was a straight A student in most other subjects with the exception of physical education his paper on the poem only earned him a B-, which, in Charles‘ world, was the single letter equivalent of “not yet good enough“.

Despite his disgruntlement about his not quite perfect mark (that earned him a whack over the head from his sister who called him a “conceited little nerd dipshit“ for complaining about crap like that when others were struggling to get through school at all) Charles found himself hooked on the new poems to a point where he could feel his mood pick up instantly whenever Mr Howlett entered the class room with a printed stack of paper in hopes of it being another new poem by the anonymous author. He wouldn‘t bring them every time they had a new lesson. He wouldn‘t even bring a new one every week. Charles tried to find the poems on the internet, but couldn‘t find either the poems or any hints as to who their author may be. It was frustrating, but it also gave him something new to look forward to whenever he went to school. 

\---

_“...for this sunset obscured by buildings hitting city skies/Thank heavens I may end up growing old/Crossing tall bridges over shallow water...“_

The door opened with a drawn-out creak that made everybody turn their heads and Hank interrupt his surprisingly pleasant reading of the latest poem by the unknown author. It revealed a not particularly rushed looking Erik Lehnsherr who proceeded to lazily walk towards his desk where he dropped his backpack with a resounding thump before carefully placing down his travel mug ( _What is it with people taking their travel mugs to class? The next cafe is God knows how far away from here._ Charles thought to himself, irritated at the sudden interruption of his peaceful daydream he had while listening to this new poem).  


Mr Howlett gave Erik a slightly crooked grin. “Hi Erik“, he said. “Hi Logan“, Erik replied, visibly disinterested as he casually unpacked what looked like some sort of comic book. “Glad you made it. This for me?“ Logan picked up the travel mug and took a long sip out of it. “Bring your own next time.“ “Already did“, Logan said, as he carried Erik‘s mug up to his desk and placed it next to his own before turning back around and casting a dismayed look in Hank‘s direction, “Did I tell you to stop reading?“ “N-no, Sir.“, a very intimidated Hank stuttered. “Then what are you waiting for? Go on.“ It took Hank a brief moment to collect his bearings before he could make himself continue, but then he picked up where he left off, the class listening more or less intently to his calm voice while Logan looked out the window taking alternating sips out of the two coffee mugs in front of him.

Just as Charles was about to settle back into his daydream as well, he heard an exasperated sigh behind him and turned around just in time to catch Erik muttering something along the lines of “...fuck...too early after all“ under his breath . He must have stared a bit too long as Erik caught his eyes and gave him a shark-toothed grin to which Charles replied with a glare. How dare that jerk not appreciate the brilliance that is this poem?

The most astonishing thing about Erik Lehnsherr was that by all accounts he was notorious for skipping classes and picking fights that earned him detention every other week while also making honour roll every year. Even more irritatingly Mr Howlett seemed to have taken a particular shine to Erik which not only drove Charles up the wall because Erik clearly got special treatment and wasn‘t admonished for his outrageous attitude, but also because Mr Howlett was known for just not being very fond of students in general up to the point when Erik transferred into this school and suddenly took the spot as his undisputed class favourite slash best friend 5eva (Mr Howlett‘s slightly sarcastic words, not Charles‘). 

He didn‘t want to admit it to himself, but all of Charles‘ friends knew that his dismay about this development was also due to the fact that usually it was Charles who became the teachers‘ favourite. He had perfected this charming intelligence that would usually wrap the school‘s staff around his finger with hardly any effort. He didn‘t do it for special treatment, he just had the overwhelming need to be liked by his teachers in order to feel validated. (A fact that, according to his sister, was owed to their “seriously messed up family“ that left Charles craving any sort of adult approval.) 

There were a lot of crazy theories about why it was that Mr Howlett took a liking to Erik of all people, the most obvious being that he saw himself in Erik, the crazier going into some complicated tangent about the two of them running a nation-wide mobster drug business with their student-teacher relationship being nothing more than an elaborate cover-up for their criminal careers. The stoners behind the bleachers claim to have proof that the two of them actually run an underground anarchist organisation turned cult with the aim of overthrowing the US government in order to end all forms of systemic oppression (when asked to see said proof they usually offered some explanation about knowledge of the whole universe gained by popping some sort of colourful pill). 

While Charles was pretty certain that neither Erik nor Mr Howlett led some sort of mutant army conspiring against humanity as a whole as the stoners claimed he was still highly suspicious of their entire way of interaction. Erik showed up to class very infrequently and when he did he was usually late. Charles was pretty sure that nobody could maintain the sort of stellar average Erik supposedly had while only being present a fraction of the time. When he once tried to ask Mr Howlett about it he was told to mind his own damn business and that Erik does a lot of home assignments to make up for his absences. Charles found that, too, dubitable, both because the didn‘t think of Erik as the kind of person who does their homework religiously and because Charles himself had been told off quite gruffly that one time he asked Mr Howlett for some extra work to improve his mark. When he asked his teacher why he couldn‘t get any extra credit the curt reply was that Charles did “not produce the kind of work someone would voluntarily want to read in their spare time if it can at all be avoided“.

Class flew by quickly that day. Charles made a valiant effort of detecting the hidden meaning behind the text and sharing it with the class. This was harder than one would think since Mr Howlett seemed to have this strange system of calling on people that sometimes had the same person talking several times even as other people had their hand raised for what felt like ages without being called on once. Charles definitely usually belonged to the latter group.

Every so often he would ask himself whether the order in which they were called upon was somehow reflective of how much Mr Howlett liked them. He quickly cast that thought aside though, because, first of all, teachers are not supposed to have favourites and secondly every teacher liked Charles. It was also the third time by now that Sean Cassidy had the chance to talk and he was one of said stoners who spread rumours about Mr Howlett (if you can call them that. Somehow Charles was under the impression that the term “rumour“ presupposes that somebody actually believed them). He also was pretty sure that everything Sean said so far was plain and simple utter crap -or at least he thought it was, as he could not quite follow the rambling rant he was currently on. Meanwhile, Charles had a very hard time not having his arm fall off as he kept it raised for what felt like a solid fifteen minutes by now. 

“...so anyway, as I said, really deep, this is very deep. There is some serious insight into capitalist exploitation of the working man in there. You can totally tell that the guy who wrote this is a freaking genius.“ Just as Charles thought to himself that that was at least one thing that Sean and he agreed upon there was a very loud snort behind him. He turned around to see a slightly read-faced looking Erik Lehnsherr stiffling some barely contained laughter. 

“Anything the matter, Erik?“, Mr Howlett asked without any bite behind it.

“No, it‘s just...“, Erik had to take a short break, seemingly trying to suppress another bout of laugher from bursting out, “It‘s just that it‘s so much bullshit. I mean, no offence Sean, but it‘s just not that sophisticated.“ One could practically hear the air quotes Erik placed around the word sophisticated.

Mr Howlett took another sip of coffee, this time from his own mug. “What do you think it is about then, Erik?“ 

“I don‘t know. I just think that the author is some sort of low-life who clearly thinks about dying way too much, but instead of keeping it to himself like a sensible person would he has to burden this entire class with it.“ Charles twisted around in his chair to give another open-mouthed glare into Erik‘s general direction to express his shock at somebody so blatantly disrespecting what must be the greatest poet of their time. Once again Erik caught him staring and just raised both his eyebrows while giving an unapologetic shrug.

“Alright, fair enough. Moving on -Would you please also grace us with your attention, Charles? I am sure the back wall is fascinating but it won‘t help your sorry arse during finals.“

Charles felt his ears burn hot both from residual anger and embarrassment when he turned back around to face the blackboard where Mr Howlett had started scribbling something about the structure of academic essays. Charles spent the rest of the lesson trying to make sense of Mr Howlett‘s barely legible handwriting (He had to give him credit for usually providing them with actually helpful writing tips though. While he radiated the kind of aura that did not seem to be very fitting for a teacher, or any person frequently in contact with other human beings, really, the gruff man did have a knack for assembling useful work sheets and condensing important information into a quick to copy format up front. Perhaps not being the talkative type had its benefits, Charles thought to himself.)  


Still, by the time the bell finally rang Charles was just about ready to remove his fingers one by one to get rid of the tension from the strain of holding his pen for so long. He said his goodbyes to Hank who had to hurry to catch his bus home before making his own way towards the parking lot where he would meet up with Raven to go home together. Just as he stepped around the corner towards his locker to drop off some of his books he nearly got knocked over by none other than Erik Lehnsherr who had dashed out of class before anybody else, apparently eager to go do whatever it was that cool people did in their spare time. 

“Hey!“ Charles shouted

“Sorry. Didn‘t see you there. You alright?“

“Uh. Yeah.“ Charles looked about cheapishly. Somehow it felt very awkward to be standing here, yet he felt like it would be impolite to just continue walking. Actually, it was the kind of impolite thing he expected Erik to do, but he in turn stood casually leaned against the locker next to him like he had intended to talk to Charles all along.

“So, class today“

“What about it?“

“You actually liked that poem Logan gave us?“

“What makes you think that?“ Charles gave Erik a dubious look. Was he going to make fun of him?

“You seemed to be pretty touchy about it is all. I thought you were going to kill me using sheer willpower back there.So, don‘t you like it after all?“

“Oh. Uhm. Yeah, I mean, I do like it. I guess I just didn‘t like being interrupted. It‘s just a thing I‘ve been looking forward to and then someone comes busting in in the middle of reading it, you know?“

Erik grinned at that. “I just can‘t believe that anybody would enjoy reading that shit is all.“

“Excuse you? It‘s not like you could produce poetry that‘s any better than that.“ 

“I mean, yeah, I couldn‘t, but at least I don‘t enjoy reading stuff that‘s just plain subpar.“

“What, are you the authority on what kind of poetry is worthwhile now? Can‘t I enjoy this without you harassing me about it?“ Charles was just about ready to stomp away by now. How dare he call his favourite poetry subpar?

Erik lifted his hands defensively “Hey, I am not trying to harass anybody here. I am just trying to make sense of why someone would voluntarily do this to themselves. There is so much good poetry out there after all.“

“Oh yeah, like what?“

“Wait a second.“, Erik said, as he started digging through his backpack to eventually produce the graphic novel he was reading earlier in class instead of participating in their discussion.

This time it was Charles‘ turn to lift his eyebrows. “You do know what poetry means, do you?“

“What? Oh, yeah, of course, I just forgot about the cover.“ He proceeded to pull off the book‘s jacket to reveal a dark red book that read _Rainer Maria Rilke -Gesammelte Werke_ on the cover in bright yelllow letters. “This is what I call good poetry. You should read it, if you haven‘t yet. I can lend this to you; I have another copy at home.“

Charles looked at the book for a long moment before looking back up at Erik. He was surprised to see an unfamiliar spark in his eyes. Erik surprisingly did appear to be quite passionate about this book. “That is an awfully kind offer and I really appreciate it, but unfortunately I don‘t understand any German whatsoever.“

Erik went very quiet for a moment or two. In fact, he seemed to freeze entirely and stared into the distance before looking back at Charles. “Oh yes, of course. I forgot. Sorry.“ His voice was much softer all of a sudden.

“It‘s okay.“, Charles reassured. “There probably are translations of it, right? I can check one out from the library.“

Erik still seemed a bit distant so a second passed before he managed to reply.  
“Yes. Do that. Tell me how much you loved it afterwards. Anyways, gotta run.“ With that, he pushed himself off the wall and continued his way past Charles like nothing had happened.

Slightly bewildered, Charles looked back to watch Erik walk away from him for a moment before he could finally shake his confusion and continued walking in the opposite direction. He really wondered what that guy‘s deal was. Admittedly though, it seemed that he had at least partly misjudged him thus far. Maybe he should actually check out those poems.


	2. Of Libraries and Annoying the Crap out of Siblings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has a tough day.  
> He gets comforted by a sweet old librarian, a border-line mean sister and a surprising revelation about a certain class mate.  
> Perhaps his first impression of Erik was completely wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there everybody!
> 
> This is just a heads-up in case you haven't noticed the change of the rating and the additional tags (or perhaps you managed to open this in the miniscule bit of time between me publishing the chapter and managing to update the other stuff in which case: Congratulations! This is your personal warning. )  
> There will be discussions of the death of a parent, abusive step parents and homelessness. Therefore I decided to bump up the rating to T just to be on the safe side. There will be no sexual content in this work. -Just so you know what to expect.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

It had been a long day for Charles. He was bombarded with tests at school and while he was a good student it was still very taxing on his nerves. Sometimes knowing that everybody expected him to perform well actually made the pressure unbearable. Charles felt like he would let everybody down if he didn‘t live up to the standards he had set for himself in the past. He loved learning new things, but he did wish that he could do so without tying his self worth to a test score. Luckily, his worries usually turned out to be unfounded. 

Once he was done quietly freaking out about his possibly wrong answer on question 2b on his biology quiz earlier that day, Charles was just about ready to drop dead into his cozy bed at home. Unfortunately, those plans did not work out either.

The moment Charles stepped into their house, he could already hear Kurt, his stepfather, shouting in the kitchen. Before he could even make an attempt at making a dash for his room Raven came running towards him and quickly pulled him back out of the front door.  
He was about to ask her about what was going on, but Raven just shook her head. “You don‘t want to be here right now, Charles. Let‘s go somewhere else.“

So off they went. Charles dropped Raven off near the cinema where she wanted to meet some of her friends. She asked him whether he would like to join, but he declined on account of feeling like he needed some space for now. As she waved him goodbye he decided to make his way to the library instead to get ahead on some of his assignments.

There he was now, paging through different books in a futile attempt at generating any kind of motivation or interest for what was written in them. Just as he was about to give up for good and leave for a stroll through town until it was late enough to sneak back in without getting involved in whatever it was that Kurt was so angry about, he looked up to see the librarian sorting through some books on her trolley. She gave him a warm smile. 

“You alright there, Charles?“

Charles smiled back at her. The librarian was a sweet old lady who he frequently chatted with when picking up books either for school or his own enjoyment. She was always up for some banter and gave the best recommendations, especially for the romance novels he so adored. 

“Yeah, I‘m okay. It‘s...it‘s just been stressful today, is all.“

“And then you spent your evening doing homework? Isn‘t that a bit much?“

Charles felt his shoulders sag. Somehow it seemed like another wave of exhaustion poured into him all of a sudden. “Maybe it is.“ His throat was very dry and as he swallowed he felt his eyes water up a bit. How pathetic of him to get this emotional for no reason. “I was just about to quit anyway. I should probably get going.“ 

As he got up, he accidentally knocked over some of his books. He had to restrain himself from swearing. When he resurfaced from underneath the table he found that she had placed a tissue and a biscuit on it. He gave her another smile as a thanks.

“Just leave the books on the table, dear. I will put them away for you. Is there something else I can do to cheer you up?“

Charles was about to say no, but then he remembered the book that Erik had shown him the other day. “Yes, there is actually. Would you happen to know whether you have any books with translations of Rilke‘s poems?“

“We do, actually. You are in luck, too. There is this young man, about your age, I believe, who used to check it out nearly all the time. He got his own copy for his birthday last year and I think it hasn‘t left the library even once since.“

Charles let her point him towards the poetry section where he indeed found the book. As he checked it out the librarian gave him another biscuit (which she informed him she baked herself and tasted heavenly) and wished him a good night`s rest to make up for the bad day he had. Charles tried his best to give her a reassuring smile at that. He could tell that she worried about him. 

He walked to his car in a slightly better mood compared to when he came. As he sat in the parking lot of the movie theatre waiting for Raven to come out he started reading the first few pages of the book. Charles wondered whether that young man the librarian talked about could have been Erik. What were the chances though? He cast the thought aside, thinking that it must be a coincident. Maybe there was a high demand for German poetry from the early 20th century.

-

Raven possessed a certain brand of strength that was forged through years of adverse circumstances, of having to fight even for the scraps of things other people thought of as the bare necesseties. She faced every new battle in her life head on, never faltering, never showing any weakness. Sometimes, Charles envied her. 

Charles would be struck by his bad conscience whenever that thought flitted through his mind. He knew that Raven was only so stoic in dealing with everything breaking into shambles around them because she has had so much worse; much worse perhaps than anything that he himself could ever have imagined, much less endured.  
Before Raven moved in with them she lived on the streets. How she got there, who her parents were or what happened to her while she was on her own, she couldn‘t or wouldn‘t tell. All the Xaviers knew was that one day Charles‘ actual father, Brian, walked past her on his way to work and dropped her a few coins. He did so every day for a week or so until finally he decided that he couldn‘t bear walking past this hungry child one more time. He called child protective service who took her in.

Back then, Raven was not very happy about that development. She bit and scratched and cried. They could hardly calm her down and she continued to act out at the care home they took her to. Brian on the other hand could not get any rest as the mental image of this bawling little girl being carried away kept haunting him. When he was informed of the very dire outlook children of Raven‘s age and temperament faced when it came to adoption, he knew what to do.

And so, after Brian and Sharon went through the process of becoming foster parents (which was probably eased greatly by their wealth), Raven moved into the Xavier estate. It took her a while to adjust, but when she did, she became as much a part of the family as everybody else. Charles and her made friends quickly, which came to no surprise as approaching new people was second nature to him. Sharon seemed very glad to have a girl to dress up and buy dolls and such for (though Raven was not very fond of the latter and merely tolerated the former). Brian Xavier was busy as ever, spending more time in the laboratory researching one thing or another the children were not yet able to comprehend. For a good few years though, they were all very happy.

Then, Brian died. Sharon fell into a deep depression. She could hardly work through her own grief and so she left the children alone to deal with theirs. Charles stopped going to any of his extracurriculars, the student newspaper, chess, football, the things that used to mean the world to him did not seem to matter anymore. If it hadn‘t been for Raven kicking his butt to go to school and eat and get out of bed every so often, Charles probably would have dropped down that same hole that their mother got lost in, too.

When she brought home Kurt it seemed like everything might return to how it used to be for a while. Sharon smiled again and rediscovered her love for fundraising dinners and expensive journeys. She often stayed out until very late, time that Raven and Charles used for movie nights with snacks and horror stories before heading to bed shivering in fear (or at least Charles did. Scary things always affected Raven way less.) 

Once again they happiness turned out to be short-lived. Soon after they got married, Kurt showed his true colours. He was cruel and distant. Sharon didn‘t protect her children, or herself. This time she spiralled down even deeper, coming home late at night reeking of liquor and often shouting at her children to do as Kurt says to keep him pacified. She didn‘t outright say so, but they knew that she blamed them for everything that went wrong in their family life.

This time, too, it was Raven who stayed headstrong throughout all of it. She was quick to pick up on patterns in Kurt‘s behaviour, knew when to avoid him and when things were calm enough to ask for favours. Charles had no idea how she did it, but somehow she even figured out a way a way to intimidate Cain, their new stepbrother who was equally as cruel as his father, enough to keep him from hitting Charles when she was around. Somehow she had every situation planned out exactly ahead of time. 

One time, when they were effectively trapped on the top floor, too scared to go downstairs and face Kurt who was in an especially sour mood after a deal gone wrong, she sat down with Charles in her room procurring a water boiler from seemingly out of nowhere along with some instant noodle soup and some tea so they wouldn‘t have to go to bed hungry or risk the trek to the kitchen.

“Hey Mr. Sourface, what are you thinking about that has you looking so down in the dumps?“

“Pardon?“

Raven gave an exaggerated flutter of of her eyelashes as she parroted “Pardon?“ in a high voice. “My God Charles, sometimes you sound so pretentious.“

“Why do you always have to be such a jerk, Raven?“

“I don‘t know, but maybe you shouldn‘t give me such good material to work with if you don‘t want to be teased.“

“Oh yeah? How would you like it if I made fun of your- your...uh...“ While Charles was a natural at giving charming speeches and bantering with his friends, he was not particularly good at delivering mean quibs at his sister on the fly. Or maybe he liked Raven too much to make out any tease-worthy character traits. Charles sighed in defeat.

She gave him a crooked smile. “Thought so. Anyway, what‘s that thing you are reading over there?“

He lifted up the book so that she could read the cover “One of my class mates recommended this to me. It‘s by this German poet. I am not sure whether I even understand half of it to be honest.“

“Oh, so did Erik bother you about it then?“

Charles blinked. “What?“

“What what?“ Raven gave back in what appeared to be genuine confusion.

“How do you know Erik told me to read this?“

“Isn‘t it obvious? He takes his copy everywhere. He sometimes changes the cover to pretend that he doesn‘t, but he totally does.“

“Okay, but...“ Charles had to take a moment to gather his wits. “You know Erik?“

“Well, duh. Who doesn‘t know Erik?“

Fair point. Their school didn‘t have that many students and the scary one that was rumoured to have robbed a bank all by himself before was bound to be pretty memorable.

“Okay, let me rephrase that: Do you know Erik well?“

Raven started laughing, but stopped when she realised that Charles was actually serious.  
“Charles, you do know that Erik and I are friends, right?“

“What? Was I supposed to know that? Since when?“

“Well, whether you are supposed to know that depends on how important you think it is for siblings to know about each other‘s dearly beloved friends.“ _Did Raven actually just refer to Erik as her ‘dearly beloved friend‘?_ “And we‘ve been friends for a little while now. I think since around the time he joined the LHRSC. Must have been just after he moved here.“

The LGBTQA+ and human rights support community was Raven‘s favourite school club she had founded herself. At first it was just an ordinary gay/straight alliance, then they decided to rename it to LGBT society to be more inclusive, before opting for the longer acronym to be even more inclusive, before they finally opted for their final name meaning to dedicate their time not just to LGBT+ topics but also to the interests of any kinds of oppressed minorities. Charles was a big fan of the concept, but he did find the fact that they shortened a name that already included an acronym into yet another acronym to be quite illogical.

“Erik is in the LHRSC??“

“Well, sort of. Recently we haven‘t had much time to meet. Mostly because we had a slight dwindling of club members, so the club is taking a bit of a break. Erik and I still meet up for coffee nearly every week though.“

The LHRSC had one fundamental problem: Every so often they would start some sort of big protest that would get people flogging to their club meetings, rallying behind a good cause or another before eventually ending up doing something too radical and getting heavily reprimanded in the process. Usually this would already scare off a fair amount of newbies that didn‘t look to get into trouble with the school and then eventually the rest would leave whenever the next elaborate and very time-intensive project went past the planning stage. This left the club time and time again with the same small group of a handful of core members who would however regularly disband because of “creative differences“ or to “start into the next project with a clear head“.

While Charles felt a general sympathy towards most causes the club worked for he felt that their rhetoric would sometimes steer into a direction he didn‘t feel comfortable with (While he thought it funny the first time Raven said that the head of a large pig farming cooperation should volunteer himself to let her have a go at his privates with a cleaver if he kept insisting that male piglets should continue to get castrated without any anethesia, he wasn‘t so sure about its joking nature anymore once he actually saw her pack said cleaver while on her way to a protest rallye in front of the butchery) so he left Raven to it for the most part. 

Their parents were less than thrilled at Raven‘s extensive list of minor crimes committed in the name of restoring justice, but Sharon was too apathetic these days to really do anything about it and whatever truce Raven had worked out with Kurt seemed to span her being free to indulge in recreational revolt against the man.

Charles for one both looked forward to and dreaded the time when Raven would go off to college and, in her own words, “would really give a new spin to protest culture“. While he wasn‘t sure what that meant, the implication that the things she did do weren‘t out there for her yet was frankly horrifying. 

He recalled one time when she broke into school, glued every door and every window on the ground floor shut with some sort of industrial strength adhesive and proceeded to spend all morning holding a philibuster-style speech about the discrimination of people with disabilities in American society while her club mates proceeded to throw leaflets at pedestrians and spoons at the town officials who came to convince them to get off the roof. Once they managed to unstick the doors, Raven was carried away, but not before the story made its way to the local media and a modest amount for interview requests came in.

Somehow Charles had never thought of Erik as the kind of person who does a lot of extracurriculars. Perhaps he just didn‘t associate people with as little enthusiasm for school as Erik with the attendance of loads of clubs. But then again, Raven wasn‘t a big fan of school either and she did spend a lot of her free time (including the bits of it she was meant to use on homework) on managing her club‘s activities. On second thought disliking school yet liking a club that constantly contemplates how to vandalise school property made perfect sense. Following that logic it was not at all surprising that Erik participated in the LHRSC. 

“You know what Raven? This is not at all surprising.“

“Well, it wasn‘t supposed to be! It‘s not like any of this was secret. And here I thought that my brother had any interest in what is going on in my life.“ 

“Okay, but just to be fair, you probably don‘t know all of my friends either.“

“Are you trying to tell me that you aren‘t a loser who only ever hangs out with the same three uncool people? Because in that case I am so glad for you, Chuck“

“It feels like we are leaving fun teasing and moving into hurtful insult territory very quickly right now.“

“Oh come on, Charles. You know that I like your friends. It‘s just that you haven‘t been getting out as much anymore recently.“

Well, he could hardly argue against that. Charles used to be a lot more outgoing before their father died. These days he mostly kept to himself.

“So, anyway, does Erik actually just go about lending this book to every other random person?“

“Wait, he actually tried to give you his own copy?“ Raven seemed baffled.

“Well, yeah. But I couldn‘t take it because it looked like it was the German original.“

“Holy shit, really?“

Charles was confused. Raven didn‘t seem to be making fun of him, but it sure _felt_ like she was. “Y-yes. You make it sound like he offered to sell me his grandma or something.“  


“I mean he might as well.“ Charles briefly wondered whether he just got much worse at understanding Raven‘s humour. “You don‘t get it Charles, do you? He doesn‘t give his copy to anyone. It‘s like his most priced possesion. He got it from his mum last year or so and I don‘t think he has left his house without it ever since.“ 

“Oh, I‘m pretty sure it wasn‘t that one then. He said he has another one at home.“

“Are you sure? What did the book he offered you look like?“

“Uh...dark red. And the title was yellow.“ 

A strange smile lit up Raven‘s face. “What did he say to you?“

“I am not sure whether I understand what it is you want from me right now?“

“I mean what did he say to you when he tried to give you the book? And what did you say to make him want to give it to you in the first place?“

Charles creased his forehead in a confused stare. “Uh, he came up to me to complain about these poems we‘ve been reading in class. I‘ve told you about them before. The ones by the anonymous author? Yeah, he kinda teased me because I like them so much and I got angry at him and then he said I should take the book. I said no, he got weird and then he left. There was not much to it.“

“Oh Charles, you have no clue how much there is to it.“ 

Raven seemed very amused, but before he could ask her to elaborate her phone started blasting some very loud pop song. She took one quick glance at the display and then picked up the call immediately. Instead of saying hello she stayed silent for a long moment. She muffled the speaker and took a quick glance back uo at Charles. “Sorry, it‘s a girl emergency. I‘ll talk to you later some more.“

She gave a little wave as Charles got up and made his way to the door of her room.

“Oh, and Charles? Make sure to tell Erik how you liked the poems.“

Once in the hallway Charles took a moment mull over the weirdness of the conversation he just had with his sister. He wondered why she made such a big deal out of Erik lending him a book. He looked down at the library book in his hands. What a strange few days it had been. Though perhaps he should really read it more carefully now that he knew how immensely important it was to Erik. Suddenly he felt a warm feeling bubble up in his stomach. He smiled his first genuine smile of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raven is hella rad. I can't wait to write about her and Erik's friendship some more.  
> Also, go Raven for standing up for disability rights. (I only just now realised that this fic would have been a great opportunity to write a character with a disability. I will definitely do that in the future.)
> 
> Also, thanks to everybody who commented and left kudos so far. I really appreciate it. I am hella busy with uni right now so I wasn't as quick with this update as I anticipated. (I had to prepare two presentations for this week and I also picked up Braille and sign language courses at the same time so I spend a lot of time practicing two entirely new alphabets and feeling like a child learning to read and write and speak again).


	3. Of Art and Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles hears another opinion on Erik.  
> Art class is a mess as usual.  
> Erik is excited to hear about Charles' thoughts on Rilke.

“How shall I hold my soul so it does not  
touch on yours. How shall I lift it  
over you to other things?  
Ah, willingly I’d store it away  
with some lost thing in the dark,  
in some strange still place, that  
does not tremble when your depths tremble.  
But all that touches us, you and me,  
takes us, together, like the stroke of a bow,  
that draws one chord out of the two strings.  
On what instrument are we strung?  
And what artist has us in their hand?  
O sweet song.“

“Isn‘t this one of the most beautiful poems you have ever read?“

“Sure, Charles.“

“Oh come on Hank, you gotta be able to muster some more enthusiasm than that!“

Hank flashed a shy smile at that “So what would you like me to say about it then?“

“No Hank, this is not about me telling you what to do. You are supposed to feel how tremendously beautiful this is by yourself.“

“And what if I just don‘t feel that excited about it?“

“Then your feeling is wrong and you should seriously reconsider. Maybe it‘ll help if I read it out one more time-“

Hank cast a nervous glance at the crowded school cafeteria as though he half-expected that someone would jump out at them any second now. “No, uhm, thank you Charles. I think I will just...ponder upon it quietly for myself. No need to, uh...why are you reading this anyway?“

“No reason to be scared Hank. I was just teasing.“ Charles could have sworn that he saw a faint blush slowly creep up Hank‘s face. “I was recommended this book a little while back and to be honest it‘s better than I thought. A bit up and down though. Some of those poems are just too lengthy to still be pleasant.“

“Who on earth tells you to read things like that? Your attitude doesn‘t exactly scream ‘poetry buff‘ to me.“

“And what the heck do you mean by that? Wait, you don‘t have to answer that. Anyway, Erik told me about it. He said it‘s a great read so I got curious.“

“What Erik? The only Erik I know that you know is Erik Lehnsherr and there is no way he-“

“It was Erik Lehnsherr who told me to read it though.“

“No way! Charles, I take back what I just said. You seem like a giant poetry fanboy compared to Erik Lehnsherr. Are you sure that he wasn‘t just trying to make fun of you somehow?“

“Wouldn‘t it be a sort of lame prank to make me read a book full of poems? Besides, he really seemed to like it a lot. Raven says he takes this book everywhere he goes.“

“I don‘t know Charles. Erik is a strange guy. Who knows what he finds funny if anything at all. It baffles me how Raven can spend as much time with him as she does.“  
“How did you know that Raven and Erik are friends and I didn‘t?“

“Oh, you know, Raven and I- we do a lot of our history course work together and once or twice she ran late because she often meets up with Erik for coffee beforehand. It‘s fine though, she always brings me tea to make up for it.“

“So not only does my sister tell you more about her friends she also brings you fancy tea when I don‘t get any? That traitor!“

“Oh, you know, it‘s not even that great. One time she also brought Erik and that was hella scary actually.“

Charles‘ forehead crinkled as he gave Hank a curious look. “How so?“

“I mean it‘s Erik. He grinned at me in that weird way the entire time and then he looked at my Star Trek collection and called me Commander for the rest of the evening to tease me. I am glad Raven was there to keep him from eating me alive.“

“Maybe he was just trying to be nice?“

“Charles, when did Erik‘s behaviour ever strike you as particularly nice?“

 _Fair point._ Charles thought to himself. Sometimes that Erik really seemed like quite the conundrum to him. Though most of the time he just seemed like a dick so perhaps that was an improvement. He was about to say as much to Hank when the bell signalled the break to be over.

Hank sighed. “I have PE now. Mr Wilson said he would have me play dodgeball against the entire rest of the class by myself if I run late one more time and I think he meant it. Catch you later.“ 

Before he even finished talking he already started dashing towards the gym at top speed. Hank was a remarkably fast runner. If he wasn‘t quite so awkward he could probably have been a great athlete. As it was he got so embarrassed sometimes that he stumbled over his own feet frequently.

Charles watched him disappear as he slowly packed up his stuff. He had a free period he intended to spend sitting outside reading before he had to attend art class. Maybe he should treat himself to another cup of tea to pass the time.

–

“Okay you annoying little shits. Time to review your current projects. Who wants to have the first attempt at convincing me that I should not let you fail?“

Charles looked up from his phone with which he was trying to quietly browse the web without getting found out. -Not that Mr Howlett would care. It just felt more polite that way. He briefly considered raising his hand, but Alex Summers was quicker.

To an outsider, Howlett‘s grading system may seem arbitrary or unfair, but fundamentally it was actually pretty alright. As a general rule nobody who said that they thought their artwork was great failed. The rest of the mark was mostly determined by how well they did at bullshitting their way through explaining their piece. That bit was a smidgen trickier, but at least everybody passed usually. 

Charles preferred this greatly over music class for instance where he had to embarrass himself in front of everybody by singing by himself.-And that didn‘t even guarantee to keep him from failing in the end.

Today‘s project presentation promised to be fairly interesting once again. Their objective had been to build a sculpture using only paper, scissors and glue. Looking around the class room, Charles mostly saw fairly uninspired abstract pieces that were basically just paper cubes and the odd pyramid jammed together with some paper strips here and there. Some crumpled up paper balls littered the tables; it was unclear whether they were supposed to be the art work or were just a testament to his fellow pupil giving up in frustration. 

Hank had actually build a fairly impressive paper sculpture resembling a Greek statue. A few people actually stopped dead in their tracks to admire his work when they came in. Hank had been thouroughly flustered because of all the compliments and even more so when his class mates asked him where he learned making amazing things like this. (The truth was that he learned it through YouTube years ago to be able to build his own paper action figures. This assignment truly was his time to shine).

Hank‘s problem however was that he lacked the confidence needed to convince Mr Howlett to give him the A he worked so hard for. He did usually end up receiving a B but that still felt like it was not quite enough considering how well executed his work was most of the time. What Hank may have lacked in raw artistic talent he made up for with perfectionism and hours of tedious work on even the smallest detail.

“Okay Summers, hit me with what you go. Step right up and put your piece on the wheel of fortune.“

This startled Charles enough to look up from absent-mindedly contemplating Hank‘s action figure to the Lazy Susan Mr Howlett used to display students‘ three-dimensional art work on while presenting it to the class. One time he spun it so quickly that he flung Charles‘ freshly burned clay tea pot across the room and shattered it against a wall. Charles still wasn‘t sure whether he found the apology or the claim that it wasn‘t done on purpose convincing.

Alex went up and put his sculpture -a paper cube with a pair of scissors jammed into it- on the Lazy Susan. “There you go. I think it‘s pretty rad.“

“Not what I had in mind when I said that you could use scissors in this project. Maybe I should tell the next course that they won‘t be allowed to use scissors. Subpar execution. I can tell that the sides of your cube are not the same length.“

“That is incorrect, Mr. Howlett. I measured out all the sides and they damn sure are the same.“

“In here I am the judge of what length things are.“ Somebody laughed an immature giggle but apruptly stopped when Mr Howlett cast a menacing look up at the class. Whoever thought that their teacher was joking was evidently wrong.

“But shouldn‘t you use a ruler to determine what length things are?“

“Getting cocky now, are we, Summers? Rather than trying to get into pointless discussions about my ability to tell that you did a shit job you should tell me why I shouldn‘t let you fail. What is this trying to represent?“

“It represents me being hella pissed at my brother for blaming the window he smashed on me and you should give me an A because it‘s beautiful.“

“Ah yes, makes sense. I will give you a C+ for execution, because of the poorly measured sides. And an A- for the idea because of the entertaining story and because you kept it short which I am always a fan of. Tell Scott I said hi. Now go sit back down. Who is next?“

On his way back to his seat Alex pulled his scissors out of the cube and dropped the rest of his sculpture into the rubbish bin. If Mr Howlett noticed he did not comment. 

Before anybody had the chance to work up the nerves to raise their hand for the next presentation the door opened and none other than Erik Lehnsherr stepped in. He seemed completely unfazed by the attention of the entire class being directed his way. _He‘s probably used to it by now with how late he is all the time._ Charles thought, though it somehow lacked his usual indignance.

“Ah great, our next volunteer.“ Mr. Howlett said dryly. “What great piece of work did you bring for us today, Erik?“

Charles curiosly tried to make out whether Erik actually brought in something to present but found him to be empty-handed. He wondered briefly whether Erik did the assignment at all.

Erik took his dear time to saunter towards an available desk and drop his backpack before pulling out a blank notepad and unceremoniously ripping out a sheet of paper. He then carried it up front and dropped it on the Lazy Susan.

The silence inside the room was deafening as everybody stared in horrified anticipation of what would happen next. 

“What is that, Erik?“ Mr. Howlett kept a perfect pokerface that left Charles unable to discern what his opinion on Erik‘s antics was.

“My sculpture.“

“I see. Your sculpture.“ There was a gasp somewhere from somewhere in the back. Even Erik wouldn‘t be able to pull this off just this once. There just was no way he could convince Mr. Howlett to accept this.

“The only condition you gave us is that it has to be made from paper and stand on its own accord. It‘s paper and you can‘t knock it over so it clearly is a sculpture.“

Mr. Howlett leaned back against the wall. “I can‘t possibly argue with that. So go on, what does it mean?“

“It means that everything is pointless and that one has to defy postmodern ideals and expectations of beauty in order to escape the capitalist performance pressure that art and the individual are subjected to.“

“Great. I love some nihilism to lighten up my day every so often. A+ for the idea and A- for execution. Go grab a seat, Erik.“

“Thanks Logan. I worked so hard for this.“

“We can tell- after all we really value hard work in here. But now it‘s time to give someone else the chance to embarrass themselves.“

Charles nearly stared a hole into the back of Erik‘s head as he crossed the class room. Time and time again Erik ended up getting top marks for work that couldn‘t even be considered half-arsed with a good conscience. He kind of admired the courage it must take to even present something like that in the first place.

Somehow Charles had managed to establish a pattern where he always ended up staring just a moment too long at Erik. This was no exception, though of course Charles only realised that about an heartbeat too late. As it was, Erik gave him a wide grin and a wink. 

Charles felt himself blush involuntarily. He quickly redirected his gaze onto his own hands resting on the desk before him. Some very interesting hands they were indeed. He tried (and failed) to look completely calm while also covering up his confusion about the sudden thrill that went through him when Erik returned his gaze. Perhaps it was some sort of fight or flight response at Erik‘s obvious teasing. Though Charles somehow remained unconvinced of that.

-

The rest of the class flew by in a blur with Charles paying hardly any attention at all to most of the remaining presentations including his own. He received two Bs on his work which kind of grated away at his self esteem considering that even Erik Lehnsherr got awarded better marks despite putting in no effort whatsoever. 

Then again, he decided that art of all things really ought to be the one subject where he should grant himself some leeway with his marks. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all. -And Raven had threatened to shove her boots where he didn‘t want them if he continued to put himself down over things that other people would be grateful to achieve.

“Hey, Charles.“ Erik‘s voice startled Charles badly as he had been busy packing his things up for going home. He looked up with the same small flutter in his heart he felt earlier when Erik caught him staring.

“Hey Erik. Is there something I can help you with?“

Erik flashed another one of his famous shark-toothed grins. “Well, not really. I just saw reading that Rilke book during break the other day and I thought I‘d ask you how you liked it.“ 

There was a sudden loud clang as Hank hit his knee against the metal legs of his table. Erik‘s smile widened even further as he turned towards him. “Oh hello there Hank. Are you alright?“  
Hank made a face like a deer caught in a headlight, curling in on himself ever so slightly. “Yeah, it‘s completely fine. I have, uh, hard knees. I would really love to chat Erik, but uh, I think I really have to go now or I will miss my bus.“

“What a shame. I guess we‘ll have to catch up over tea with Raven again then. Enjoy your ride home, Commander. And don‘t forget to take care of your hard knees!“

Hank had retreated without another word and just a quick wave into the general direction of Charles as Erik was still talking. He dashed out of the room so quickly Charles felt like he would have missed it had he blinked. It‘s like that guy could beam himself away from uncomfortable situations, undoubtedly to lose his shit quietly elsewhere. Perhaps the Star Trek inspired nickname was somewhat fitting, however little Hank himself liked it.

“I really like that guy.“, Erik said, now turning toward Charles like he hadn‘t even realised that someone just ran away in panic from him, “Anyway, tell me about the book. Did you enjoy it a lot?“

Charles contemplated this for a bit before he answered. “I enjoyed some parts of it a lot. Not every single poem though-“

“Sacrilegious! My dear Charles, I really expected you to have the fine kind of taste that enables you to appreciate every single Rilke poem in its unique beauty!“

Charles shrugged. “Some of them are just too long for my taste. I really liked the shorter ones though. I even made a copy of my favourite one to stick to my wall.“

“Too long?! How else was he supposed to explore his subjects in that much depth if he hadn‘t given them a lot of space to develop!“ 

“I don‘t think I find that convincing, Erik. The poems we talk about in class are not nearly as long and I never felt that there was not enough space for the topics. I just think the length takes away from how nice it sounds.“ 

Erik huffed out an exasperated sigh at that. “But poems are not just about sounding nice! They are supposed to have a deep resounding meaning!“

“Hey, I didn‘t say that I don‘t care about the message or anything. I just like it to relay that message within a reasonable amount of text.“

“Perhaps you are more of a slam poetry person then? Well, it‘s not Rilke, but still alright, I guess.“

“No, uh, I mean, I‘ve never really been to a poetry slam before. So I am not a slam poetry person, I think.“ Charles felt like he sort of lost his footing on this subject. Somehow he felt a bit awkard about revealing to Erik how little he actually knew on the matter of poetry.

“Oh well, that‘s such a shame though, Charles. There is a poetry slam every third Thursday of the month at the library. The next one just so happens to take place next week. You really should go- if you have time, that is. I will be there too, you know.“

Charles took a long look at Erik from his worn plaid jacket to his slightly tousled (although still fashionably so) hair to his crooked grin and the odd glint in his eyes that Charles could not quite place. From what he could tell Erik did not seem insincere. Then again, it seemed like a very strange proposition. It was not like the Erik Lehnsherr he knew to recommend cultural events to random class mates. Though, then again, from what he gathered from his recent conversations with Raven and Hank he did not know all that much about Erik in the first place.

“Yes, that does sound quite lovely actually. And it seems that I will be available to go, so I guess that I will check it out.“

Erik noticeably perked up at that. “Great. I will see you there, then! If you feel up for it, I mean. I know all the best tea flavours they offer and such. So maybe come find me when you are there. See you.“

Then, without another word, Erik turned away and left hurriedly just short of actually running out of the classroom. _What is it with people just running out on me today?_ Charles asked himself before he took his own bag and followed at a much more leisurely pace. 

This had been yet another unfathomable encounter with his class mate. He still wasn‘t quite sure what it was that Erik wanted from him. Seeing as Hank and Raven, the people he trusted most, seemed to have very different opinions on the matter he supposed that the only way to find out where this would lead would be taking the plunge and going with Erik‘s propositions. Reading the book was enjoyable at least. He couldn‘t see why it shouldn‘t be the same with the poetry slam. He‘d figure the rest out sooner or later, Charles was sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the translation of Rilke's poem "Love-Song" from this very helpful website: https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/German/MoreRilke.php
> 
> I also have to admit that I did not really consider in what country this takes place before I started writing so I will just pretend that Charles and Erik grew up with the same kind of school system as I did. If any of the classes they are taking etc strikes you as odd it's probably because of that. (I left the marks from A to F though because idk I thought it may be easier to some.)
> 
> Can I also just say that I somehow enjoy writing classes with Logan the most? He is everything I aspire to be and that is probably a bad thing because I will be a teacher one day.


	4. Of Bad Things and How to Make Them Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles gets into an unpleasant situation with his stepbrother.  
> He gets help when he least expects it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there friends!
> 
> I just wanted to give you a quick heads-up that this chapter contains some sensitive topics such as bullying and homophobia (though I didn't go too deeply into the latter, there are no homophobic slurs etc, since homophobia is a very sensitive issue to me as well and I was trying not to let this get too dark). Please take care while reading. 
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to update btw. Life is a lot to deal with sometimes, eh?
> 
> I hope you people enjoy this chapter!

“Hey Chuck!“

Charles very nearly sighed out loud at the hated nickname but caught himself just in time. It would likely not be a wise idea to show his instant dislike. The sorts of people who used it usually got a kick out of riling him up. And somehow getting confrontational with his bullies in the washroom seemed like the stupid teen movie equivalent of characters walking into the horror house by themselves- the kind of thing anybody else would yell at him not to do if they were here.

“Hey Chuck, look at me when I speak to you!“

Charles tried his best to inconspicuously take a deep breath to ground himself before turning around to face his stepbrother, Cain. Even just looking at that douche gave him a mild headache. 

“Hey Cain, what‘s up?“ Charles said definitely lacking enthusiasm but trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Oh not much, Chucky-dear. Just checking in with my favourite brother. How‘s it going?“ Behind Cain a small gaggle of his ever-present friends gathered watching curiously, casually blocking Charles‘ only way out. Well, his only way out apart from the window which frankly he was not above using should it become necessary.

“Great. It‘s going splendidly, Cain. Thanks for asking. If you don‘t mind, I have a class to attend now.“ Charles took a futile step forward but was immediately cut off by Cain moving into his way.

“I do mind, actually. What class could possibly be more important than getting to spend some quality time with family?“ One of Cain‘s friends sniggered at that, but Charles couldn‘t make himself look away from Cain to identify who it was.

“English.“ Charles answered flatly. 

“Oh, English. Always our little bookworm. Is your class work as _interesting_ as the stuff you read at home?“ The emphasis made Charles frown. He knew that whatever the punchline was, he would be lucky to walk away from it without suffering physical harm.

Cain‘s lips curled into an unkind smile as he shifted his weight slightly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I know about some of the gems you cram under your bed, you know. There‘s some really raunchy stuff in there, isn‘t it? Did nobody tell you yet that pictures are a thing these days?“

Charles felt the rest of the guys crowd in on him more than he saw it. He noticed his heartrate picking up at the sensation of being trapped. 

“Though your interests aren‘t very normal in general, are they?“ Another barely surpressed burst of laughter bubbled up from somewhere behind Charles. Cain downright loomed over him by now. Charles on the other hand finally got an inkling where this was going and shrank in on himself slightly in anticipation of what was about to come.

“I always knew that you are a bit of a pussy, but man, Charles, who would have thought that my little brother enjoys books with blokes making out on the cover. Do you know what that makes you, Chuck?“

Charles swallowed hard. Getting beaten up he could deal with but this was moving into territories he could not handle very well emotionally. All his friends (and Raven of course) knew about his sexuality but he had hoped to keep this from the more narrow-minded parts of his family and school mates at least until he graduated. This was a nightmare come true.

“What does that make him, Cain?“ Cain and his goons swirled around in shock at the unexpected voice coming from the door. Charles could not see who it was since Cain was still blocking his view but already his heart was almost beating out of his chest from relief. Maybe he could get out of this unscathed after all. Perhaps he could leave inconspiciously if the new arrival captured Cain‘s attention for long enough.

“This isn‘t any of your business, Lehnsherr. Leave us alone.“ _Erik Lehnsherr?_ That guy was rarely punctual for class, but just this once he not only made it here in time for school but also just in time to walk in on Charles getting tormented by his stepbrother. _Great._

“I think I can decide for myself what is and isn‘t my business. So, tell me Cain, what does that make him?“ Erik took a step towards Cain squaring his shoulders as he came to stand directly in front of him, his jaw set. Cain turned slightly and looked back and forth between Charles and Erik. 

“Oh, is that how it is then?“ Cain once again flashed that alarming smile. “I always thought you weren‘t the kind of guy to befriend nerds like my little brother. But I guess that you don‘t have to be friends to go after that sweet little backside. Are you that desperate, Erik? No luck with chicks at all?“ 

Cain‘s friends broke into laughter. The next things happened very quickly, but to Charles it seemed like they may as well have happened in slow motion. Before the sniggers even subsided, Erik made another step forward, socked Cain in the face once directly followed by another blow to his stomach. Apparently he had caught Cain unprepared seeing as he doubled over gasping for air immediately.

 _This is madness._ Charles thought. Erik was outnumbered by four or five people. There was no way he could win that fight. Charles‘ ears were ringing slightly. He watched the guy closest to Erik turn, no doubt to retaliate, and unthinkingly threw himself on top of that dude kicking and screaming.

Everything was a blur after that. Charles didn‘t stop to assess what was happening around him for he was scared of getting overpowered if he hesitated even for a second. All he could think about was that he couldn‘t let them hit Erik after he stood up to Cain for him.

Completely overwhelmed with adrenaline and the subsequent panic, Charles lost all sense of time and direction. Perhaps this was what pure survival mode felt like. Regardless of whether this was actually the case, the next thing that actually managed to get through to the thinking part of his brain was a monumental shout and the realisation that the constant onslaught of fists and feet and whatnot suddenly paused.

Everybody inside the bathroom looked up simultaneously to be faced with their stone-faced headmistress, Ms Frost, and Mr Howlett. The boys quieted down instantaneously; one could have heard a pin drop if it hadn‘t been for their heavy panting. Charles could feel the burden of her tremendous disapproval cast upon him as Ms Frost‘s glare swept across the room to survey the situation.

“Is anybody seriously hurt?“ Charles only managed to shake his head quietly. 

“Alright then. Follow me to my office, gentlemen.“ She then turned on her heels and started walking at a swift pace down the corridor without even casting another look back. 

Mr Howlett took a step into the bathroom to hold the door open for the boys. “Everybody get up and out of here right now- And no funny business unless you want me to enter the fight.“ Something about the stern look he gave them along with his imposing posture made that threat almost seem serious even though Charles was pretty sure that no teacher would risk getting fired over starting fistfights with students.

One by one, they shuffled past Logan, eyes cast downwards and shoulders slumped. Charles managed to catch a quick glance at himself as he walked past the mirror and winced. The left side of his face had already started swelling up and he was bleeding considerably from some grazes on his neck, his shirt and hair were in complete disarray and he was reasonably sure that he would start hurting in several other places once the rush of fear had passed.

–  


“So from what I understand it was the two of you against five other people, am I correct?“

“Correct.“ 

“So you were outnumbered by more than twice as many people, yet Mr Marko insists that it was you who started the fight.“

There was a beat of silence. Charles looked up at Erik who had done all of the talking with Ms Frost so far. “Yes, I threw the first punch. I made it escalate.“ Erik said in a matter-of-factly fashion. Charles gaped at him in disbelief.

“But he only did it to help me. It‘s not Erik‘s fault! You can‘t just go and let them put all the blame on him.“ 

“So why did he have to help you then?“ 

Charles faltered at that. “I- Uhm, I was using the bathroom when Cain started talking to me and, well, I guess he was just poking a bit of fun at me and it made me... uncomfortable and...“ He trailed of, unsure of how much of the truth he should trust Ms Frost with. 

Maybe she would call their parents to tell them about the fight. Certainly she would think that his mother and stepdad would be supportive of him rather than Cain, but he wasn‘t convinced that that would be the case once the reason for the brawl transpired. 

“Can you tell me what kind of _fun_ Cain was poking at you, Charles?“

“I...don‘t think I can.“ Suddenly it felt like there wasn‘t enough air in the room. Charles‘ throat started burning and he had to look down in an attempt to conceal the tears that started welling up.

Ms Frost leaned back in her office chair. “You have never been in a fight before, Charles. To me it sounds like you were being assaulted by a whole group of people on your own and then Erik came and stepped in.“

“No-o, I wasn‘t being assaulted. Nobody hit me. I also struck before anybody else hurt me.“ Charles‘ voice came out very wispy and cracked a few times. He felt pathetic.

“Mr Lehnsherr, do you think that, if you hadn‘t stepped in when you did, Mr Xavier would in fact have been physically assaulted by the gentlemen currently waiting outside?“

Another brief silence. “I am certain of it.“

Charles took another long look at Erik. His vision was slightly blurred by his barely suppressed tears giving Erik a bit of a halo against the light pouring in through the window. Erik, too, definitely looked worse for wear. There was dried blood around his nose and split lip and his hair was sticking up in all directions like somebody tried to tear tufts out of it. The collar of his shirt was torn exposing his clavicles and his knuckles were bruised and bloody. Charles‘ eyes came to rest at those hands for a long time. Erik beat someone with them to protect him.

“Are you aware that there are further actions we could take if there are incidents related to hate speech within this school?“  
Charles just gave a helpless shrug. He knew they wouldn‘t help him now. His secret was out to Cain and nothing could save him from here on out. “I never said anything about hate speech.“

“I am aware that Cain Marko is your stepbrother. Would you benefit at all from me talking to your parents about you being harassed like this?“ Charles shook his head profusely. Ms Frost gave him a sad smile. “I thought so. And I won‘t do that then, of course. Please promise me to reach out if you ever feel like your environment in school or at home isn‘t safe for you. Not just Mr Lehnsherr is here to help you and unlike the two of you we may actually be able to solve these kinds of problems without violence.“

Charles stared at her dubiously for a moment. _If only it were that easy._

“As for the problem at hand; I obviously can‘t let the two of you off without punishment. However, seeing as you are a first-time offender Mr Xavier, and you, Mr Lehnsherr... at least don‘t have any offences pertaining to violence on your record and since Mr Howlett is vouching for your great moral qualities, I will go easy on you. Two weeks of detention. I hope that this is the last I will see of the two of you in here.“

The boys thanked her and said their goodbyes before quickly making their way out of the office, past Cain and the others still sat outside the office waiting for their punishment to be announced and down an empty hallway. 

For a short while, they just walked aimlessly side by side. Suddenly, Erik took a sharp turn and came to a standstill in a slightly elongated doorway just big enough to obscure the two of them from inattentive people walking past. Unsure of what else to do, Charles just stood next to him awkwardly.

“Are you alright, Charles?“ Erik looked sincerely concerned. Something about that expression broke the last of Charles‘ self-restraint so there was nothing he could do to fight the ugly sob making its way up through his lungs. 

Once that was out there was no going back. Tears started pouring freely down his face, his nose was running and he felt overall pretty gross. _And in front of Erik, too._ Somehow, that thought made things even worse. He shook and his knees buckled in a way that made him fear that he might not be able to support his own weight for much longer. 

Then, a strange thing happened. One moment, they stood facing each other and next thing he knew, Erik had crossed the tiny bit of space between the two of them and extended his arms towards him. This puzzled Charles briefly, but then he was enveloped into a tight hug and he understood.

It should have been odd maybe, but just now Charles could not bring himself to care. So far Erik had been very nice to him and he wasn‘t going to continue questioning his motives when he had already proven that he was willing to stand up for Charles even when the odds were against him making it out unharmed. Perhaps this was going to be a great friendship.

For now, Charles spent what felt like ages snivelling and whimpering and making an assortment of other gross sounds into Erik‘s chest while Erik gently petted his back in silence.  
Once Charles had slightly regained some of his composure, he took a step back and first of all surveyed the disgusting wet spot he left on the left side of Erik‘s chest with embarrassment evident on his face.

“It‘s fine. The shirt is ruined anyway.“

“Still, I can come up with a lot of things more pleasant than running around in a shirt covered in my snot.“

Erik‘s face lit up with a small but sincere smile. “I can come up with a lot of things worse than that, too, though.“ For some reason this made Charles‘ stomach do a weird flip. Maybe it was because they just spent a long time hugging after a stressful day such as this.

“Thank you for sticking up for me back there by the way. You didn‘t have to do that.“

“Don‘t be ridiculous, of course I had to do that. What kind of person would I be if I overheard my friends getting harassed and just walked past? Those idiots were about to gang up on you and could have seriously hurt you. The least I could do was somewhat even out the odds.“

“But this way you got hurt, too.“

“And I would get hurt a thousand times over if I could help you out that way.“

If he hadn‘t already cried himself dry Charles would have teared up once again, he was very sure of that. “Just- Thanks Erik, thank you ever so much. I really appreciate your help. Not just the help, actually. The book, too. And the invitation to the poetry slam.“

“What a shame that we will have to wait for the next one now that we will be in detention all of next week.“

“I guess we just have to plan ahead for next month then.“

“Yeah, let‘s do that. I still have to recommend you all the good kinds of tea after all. Until then, would you like to get out of here to grab some cake maybe? You look like you could need it.“

His stomach did another weird twisty move. Charles briefly wondered whether he got hit in the stomach too hard without noticing. “Yes, I would like that.“

“Great. We should grab some tissues while en route there though. You look like you need them.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that those of you who celebrate had lovely holidays and that all of you will have a fantastic start into the new year. 
> 
> I should probably make writing more regularly one of my New Year's resolutions.


	5. Of Embarrassment and Blue Ceilings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles deals with the aftermath of the bathroom incident (and stares. What is it with the staring, Charles?).
> 
> A friendship is being forged.
> 
> Logan actually gives good advice on poetry interpretation if you squint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi people! I am back!  
> I hope you had a good time these past few months and that you are happy and healthy
> 
> Sorry, life happened and as it turns out I am really ill-equipped for dealing with it.  
> As a matter of fact I am only writing again because the preparations for my exams scare me so much that they killed my writer's block. RIP writer's block, never come back
> 
> If any of you guys still know what's happening with this story, you are way ahead of me.

Charles‘ mood had immediately picked up upon entering English class this morning, the reason for this being the stack of papers on Mr. Howlett‘s desk. This was a fairly new development as he would have usually cowered in fear of a surprise quiz (followed by frantically taking the quiz, complaining about it for weeks to anyone who would -and wouldn‘t- listen and at long last getting one of his usually stellar grades) if it hadn‘t been for his new-found love for the poetry their teacher liked to bring in. 

Charles was already wrapped up in the process of relaying his intense excitement about the possibility of a new literary masterpiece being discussed to a slightly flustered looking Hank when Mr. Howlett unceremoniously dropped a sheet of paper in front of each of them.

“Relax, tough guy, it‘s just a poem.“ Howlett said gruffly. Then, with a smirk, he added, “You know, getting this worked up about class work doesn‘t really fit in with your new rowdy image.“

“I‘ll have you know that I deem no image change necessary for myself. And I am certainly no rowdy.“ Charles replied in what he realised was not nearly as witty a manner as he would have liked.

“Could have fooled me with that new look of yours.“ 

Charles‘ hand instictively shot up to touch his swollen eye and cheek and he immediately regretted it. It still hurt. A lot. 

It had been two days since the confrontation between Erik and him and Cain‘s gang. As far as consequences go, things didn‘t shape out as badly as Charles expected them to. Charles‘ parents had reacted coolly to the call from the school. His mother had let out a few cold remarks about how they might have to buy him into a good university after all if he were to start displaying behavioural issues like that. He didn‘t dwell on it too much. She had had a few glasses of wine that evening for reasons he suspected had nothing to do with him and everything to do with a shouting match she and Kurt had over the phone earlier. 

Kurt himself wasn‘t as upset with Charles as he was with Cain. Not because he was enraged that Cain had ganged up on someone else, but evidently because he was upset that his son didn‘t come up on top in a fight against someone he thought of as weak even as they outnumbered him. Charles didn‘t bother pointing out that he had Erik to thank for for making it out relatively unscathed. He didn‘t think it would have been a great point to make just after Kurt ridiculed him for “being a pussy“. As he did so, Charles could feel his knees weaken as he briefly thought about what would happen if Cain told Kurt about Charles‘ secret. Cain smiled cruelly at him, like he knew what Charles was thinking.

School hadn‘t been that bad. Erik and Charles were due to sit out their first bout of detention that afternoon. Some of his science teachers have given him odd looks the day after the confrontation and one had asked him whether he felt alright after class and whether he would like to attend counseling (which Charles declined graciously without saying that he couldn‘t possibly do so because of his stepfather. He found the whole exchange to be awfully thoughtful, however). 

Their fellow students had been an entirely different story, though. Once word got around that Charles Xavier of all people had gotten into a fistfight and made the rounds like wildfire, the story had begun to grow more bizarre and magnificent with every iteration. When he entered school next day he was instantly ambushed by a panicked Hank questioning his sanity for going against ten college students loitering around campus that were armed with switch blades. 

He was not actually consoled when Charles told him what really happened. Starting a fight with Charles‘ bully of a stepbrother was a terrible mistake certain to have even more terrible repercussions in the future. But Hank also took the fact that Erik Lehnsherr as further confirmation that Charles was endangering his own well-being by befriending him. _Sometimes Hank sounds like an old lady_ , Charles thought to himself. This was an accurate assessment for virtually all the times when Hank didn‘t sound like a nerd or wasn‘t talking about Raven – the last bit Charles decided not to consider in depth because it made him uneasy.

Other students seemed to have quite a different opinion from Hank‘s on Charles‘ sudden rise to fame as one of the guys who got into a fight with odds that bad. While Charles was by no means unpopular, he was also not used to being offered fistbumps in passing on the corridors. The other day Alex Summers even offered him a cigarette for “being a cool guy“. Charles declined on account of his asthma (even though he hadn‘t had an attack since he was eight. He felt like giving credit to the Captain America tapes on the dangers of smoking might have cost him his newfound cool guy cred.), yet felt his cheeks warm up a bit at being offered a favour by the kind of bad boy persona half the school swooned over. 

Of course that moment was ruined slightly by Erik walking past and off-handedly asking Alex whether his brother knew that he was smoking again, at which point Alex ran after Erik, ostensibly to convince him not to rat him out by promising to do his homework for a month (knowing Alex‘ overall performance in school, Charles thought of that offer as more of a threat). 

Charles hadn‘t really spoken to Erik much since the incident. Charles‘ mother had sent a driver to pick Cain and him up after the school‘s call came through and the day after they didn‘t have any classes together and during the breaks Charles was being surrounded by random people wanting to have the gossip they heard confirmed. 

Somehow, this bothered Charles and he wasn‘t quite sure whether he understood why. He didn‘t know what he actually wanted to talk about. Maybe he just wanted to hear a confirmation that what happened between them actually took place. Erik had called him his _friend_. He had protected Charles when he could have just as easily turned around and walked away without anyone noticing. Though then again, apparently they weren‘t even on enough of a friendly basis to exchange phone numbers. What were they, cavemen? Maybe he should ask Raven to help him make sense of it all.

Before he could get any more worked up thinking over the things that happened over the last two days, Charles was ripped from his thoughts by Mr. Howlett loudly clearing his throat up front.

“Seriously guys, I don‘t get what you even show up for if you have no intention of actually doing what I tell you. Don‘t you guys have better places to spend your time? Going to the arcade or whatever? I sure do. But I am here, because we live in a messed up world where we have to do things to live. So unless you want me to take out my frustration on one of you by determining today‘s reader by throwing my dictionary at someone‘s head I‘d like to see some volunteers right about now.“

 _Classic Mr. Howlett blaming us for having to come here. If none of us came here and he didn‘t nobody would be able to tell._ Charles thought in a bit of an epiphany as to what Erik‘s motivation for never coming may be. Just as he turned in his seat to cast a quick glance around the classroom to see whether Erik came in while he was distracted, there was another cough.

“Oh great, our newest amateur Mixed Martial Arts fighter just signalled his willingness to read out today‘s poem.“

Charles had nearly forgotten about the poem. After turning around a bit awkwardly now that everyone stared into his direction, he took a first good look at it before he began reading.

“Low

I overstep to underreach  
A shout for peace and quiet  
At long last I go to sleep  
Just as morning comes

How did I end up so low?

All I want to be is a little less  
Less jagged, less out there  
Less for others to bear  
Less of a nuisance  
A little less here  
A whole lot less human

How did I end up so low?  
Can‘t leave the house so I painted the ceiling blue

Not quite fallen apart  
But already ragged at the seams  
Good for now  
Soon replaced  
Sooner forgotten

How did I end up so low?  
Can‘t leave the house so I painted the ceiling blue  
To pretend the sky is still blanketing me

I don‘t want to disappear  
I wish I had gone elsewhere  
In the first place

How did I end up so low?  
Can‘t leave the house so I painted the ceiling blue  
To pretend the sky is still blanketing me  
When I began to feel smothered  
I cannot tell“

Charles felt slightly out of breath by the time he finished reading. He wondered whether he could get away with not leaving any marks on this piece of paper so it would remain pristine for when he intended to tape it to his wall later. He would have a hard time carrying it home crease free since Charles‘ folder organisation was practically non-existent. 

Instead, he favoured a whimsical assembly of quickly jotted down notes for all kinds of subjects on many loose sheets of paper crammed in between the pages of his notebooks(at least that‘s the term he preferred. Raven liked to call his school backpack a dressed up paper bin because of the chaos that made up its contents). If necessary, Charles would keep holding the sheet gingerly for the rest of the day and all the way home to preserve it. 

Since he had still not found out who wrote these poems he couldn‘t risk losing his copy, seeing as he couldn‘t be sure whether Mr. Howlett would actually give him another one should he lose it. (It‘s not to say he wouldn‘t. It‘s that Mr. Howlett‘s moods remained a mystery to Charles and he never seemed to get the hang of guessing when would be the right time to ask for favours.)

“So does anyone want to give us an interpretation of what is happening in this poem?“

“Dude‘s hella down!“ Came a shouted remark from Sean in the back.

“You are not wrong, but everything about that statement is. Can someone please explain why?“

Next to Charles, Hank lifted his hand reluctantly. “We can‘t say dude because we don‘t know whether the Lyrical I is male because it doesn‘t say so in the text.“

“Yeah, well done, Hank. We refer to the Lyrical I -or any other person spoken to or about in a poem- in a gender neutral manner and if we don‘t, we have to provide evidence for the gender we assume. Also, if I see any of you confuse the Lyrical I and the author one more time I swear to God will make you eat that paper. I feel like I will have an aneurysm the next time I read some bullshit like ‘and here Shakespeare says whatever‘“

Just as Logan completed his surprisingly nice rendering of a skull and crossbones next to the equation Lyrical I ≠ author up front on the blackboard, the door opened and in came Erik Lehnsherr, uncharacteristically quietly. Charles waved the paper at him to show them what they were doing, but Erik just shrugged non-chalantly and dropped into the desk closest to the door. 

Charles gave him a quick once-over. Erik‘s face looked not much better than his, the purpling bruises in his face seeming even more striking under the light of the fluorescent lights. As his eyes followed Erik‘s hands unpacking a notebook he noticed how his knuckles had scabbed over. Nearly disappearing underneath his shirt collar was another bruise that almost looked like a hickey. For some reason, Charles felt his throat go dry at that. As he observed Erik‘s throat work, he felt himself swallow in sympathy. There was an aprupt movement as Erik tilted his head. When Charles met his eyes again, Erik flashed him another one of his shark-toothed smiles. Charles flushed and twisted back around in his chair quickly. Perhaps this once-over wasn‘t as quick as intended. God damn it. He should stop staring at Erik Lehnsherr.

\--

Once class was finished, Erik remained standing at the door conspicuously. As Charles caught up to him, his face lit up noticeably.

“How have you been doing since-“ Erik cast a glance to the side almost as if he was afraid of saying something wrong that could be overheard. (Like anything that actually happened could out-weird the wild imaginations of their peers.)

“Oh, I‘ve been fine. A bit overwhelmed maybe. I am not used to dealing with...this kinda stuff.“ 

“Have your folks been giving you a hard time about getting into trouble?“

“That depends on- No, not harder than usual anyway.“ For once Charles felt like he would actually like to elaborate on this, but was unsure of whether Erik would actually like to hear it. 

“Have you gotten into any trouble at home because of me, Erik?“

Erik actually laughed at that. “This is not my first spot of ‘trouble‘, you know. Besides, I didn‘t get detention because of you, I got into trouble because Cain is an absolute douchenoodle.“

Charles erupted into laughter as well and although it wasn‘t even that funny, they both just stood there for a moment, giggling like one of them just told the best joke.

“Have you been in detention before, though?“ Charles asked, nervous again all of a sudden, once the laughter had died down.

“Of course I have. Do you mean this is your first time having to pull a nightshift?“

“You know, your intial reaction to being asked about your experience with detention shouldn‘t be ‘of course‘.“

Erik just shrugged.

“What do you mean by nightshift though? Can we actually not leave until that late?“ Charles asked feeling a smidge of panic rising up in an entirely too alarming manner as Erik‘s comment fully registered.

“Yes Charles, you are lucky if they let you out before your grandchildren graduate.“

And just like that, they were laughing like idiots again. Erik actually looked very...kind when laughing. It didn‘t have quite the same murderous quality as his smile. As Charles stared at the upturned corners of Erik‘s mouth, he gathered all his courage.

“Hey Erik, seeing as we are friends now...or whatever, I just had this thought, like- Do you think that maybe we couldn exchange phone numbers, or- You know, because we wanted to go to that Poetry Slam. Or maybe we could just...chat? If that‘s cool with you?“

“Great, this way we can conspire to beat up six more community college thugs.“

“Pffh, six? Didn‘t you hear? There were at least ten!“

“With switchblades?“

“Yeah, and they were here to sell hard drugs and hold illegal dog fights!“

“I, for one, like the version where we stand up to that arsehole whose brain must have been delivered separately much better.“

And then, to Charles great amazement, Erik held out his phone for Charles to type his number into. After he did, he send Charles a quick text message that just read “:)“ Charles‘ stomach did another strange thing. He really ought to have that checked out.

“Are you boys done flirting so that I can lock up or do you need some privacy?“

Charles flushed deep red all the way to his ears. “Sorry Mr. Howlett.“

Erik just waved and shouted “Get off our backs, Logan“ as they were unceremoniously shoved outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just pretend that there was actually a good poem in there. (I am not that great of a writer, can you tell?)
> 
> Also, I have strong feelings about poetry interpretation.
> 
> Edit: It's so late I cracked up over a typo I just found where it said "Hank lifted his Hank". Proudest moment both for writing it in the first place and for finding it so damn funny right now.


	6. Of Worse Things and Good Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has to endure his first ever round of detention.
> 
> He and Erik exchange some more thoughts on poetry on the road.
> 
> Charles finds out something massive about Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there everyone! 
> 
> It is I, the elusive author of this story, miraculously adding another chapter just a day after the last one (yeah, idk what happened there either. It's like I slipped and there was an entire new chapter).
> 
> So, FAIR WARNING! This chapter deals with some heavy stuff such as a sick relative. Have you seen that "Erik Lehnsherr suffering" Tag? This is were it comes into play. Also, there is another long bit of poetry in here which deals with mental health issues and themes of suicide-though it has a hopeful component? Idk you guys. You can skip the actual poem without missing out on anything plotwise. (you can also skip it if you just don't enjoy the poems that much. It's...something).
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and that you are having a nice day. 
> 
> Thanks for reading you guys!

The day went by in a breeze after Charles‘ and Erik‘s little chat on their way out of the class room. As the time to start their first round of detention neared, Charles felt himself become more and more queasy. He never would have guessed in a million years that he would end up getting detention at some point in his educational career. Charles considered himself the epitome of a goody two-shoes. He did well in school, he was nice to everyone, teachers liked him. Raven had tried to console him by saying that he finally did something badass for once, yet he only felt marginally better telling himself that as he shuffled towards the detention room as slowly as he possibly could (without being late of course, because Charles did not want to make a habit out of being late).

It didn‘t help that Cain and his friends had been given detention, too, although for a much longer period of time. Charles feared that this would only contribute to their bad mood while they were trapped in a room together, which wasn‘t a great prospect on the best of days. He was fairly happy that Cain and him had no classes whatsoever together. 

As he rounded the corner towards the detention room he spotted Erik from afar and perked up somewhat. Erik was casually drapped against a locker a few steps away from the room. When he saw Charles approach, he quirked the corners of his mouth. Charles beamed back at him. Who would have thought that he would feel his heart warming upon walking towards Erik Lehnsherr one day?

“Hey there, Charles. You ready for your first ever detention?“

Charles sighed. “As ready as I‘ll ever be, I guess.“

“You know it‘s not that bad, right? We just sit in a classroom for a bit and then we leave. You can do your homework or count the chewing gum underneath the table or whatever you do to pass the time quietly. Heck, you seem like the kind of guy who enjoys doing homework. You will be fine.“

“It‘s less about what‘s actually going to happen and more about the principle of things.“

“What principle? The one of your slow descend towards moral dilapidation?“

Charles gave Erik a dubious look. “Yeah, something like that.“

“Oh Charles, if you were truly that bad you wouldn‘t have been caught.“

“Cain got caught.“

“Cain is an idiot, Charles.“

“You wanna throw fists again, Lehnsherr?“, Came a sudden voice from behind them.

“Think you can handle me without a horde of people backing you up, dimwit?“ Erik‘s face shifted from the pleasant smile he had just been giving Charles to a sneer as he turned around to face Cain. 

For a split second, Charles wondered whether he should hold Erik back before another fight broke out, but his train of thoughts was interupted by the door of the detention room being thrown open. Out came Mr Howlett of all people.

“Do you kids ever learn anything? You haven‘t even received the punishment yet and are already starting another fight? Within earshot of the detention room? I am starting to think that this is not the kind of help you guys need. Now get in before I show you what angry really means.“

Charles thought he heard one of the other kids that had to sit out detention for a reason other than their fight scoff at the word ‘help‘, but other than that there were no more protests while Mr. Howlett ushered them inside. 

“Hey Logan, are you following me or something? You never do detention usually. What happened to Mr. Banner?“, Erik piped up from somewhere behind Charles.

“I don‘t know Erik, I am not being paid to ask what my colleagues do when they are not here.“

Charles was momentarily distracted asking himself what Mr Howlett might do in his spare time. He cast a long glance at the dirty Wellingtons their teacher was wearing. Maybe he was an avid gardener. Or, if the rumours were true(and this certainly deserved the name rumours seeing as some students insisted they believe in it),he spent a lot of time digging up holes to hide evidence of his past crimes. Charles shivered briefly. The truth was probably somewhere in the middle ground, he told himself. Wherever the middle ground between gardening and murder lay.

Either way, he dropped himself into a chair at a table up front seeing as Cain and his followers all took to sitting as far in the back as possible. Erik took the seat next to his while giving a thumbs-up (which Charles was unsure about whether it was meant to mock him or as an encouragement. Maybe this, too, was a matter of middle grounds).

“Okay you bunch of rascals, time to start your punishment. Most of you know the drill, no phones, no chatting, no fooling around. Do your homework or stare at the ceiling quietly - Whatever. I dare you to annoy me. See what that‘ll get you.“

And just like that, Charles‘ first ever detention took its course. He did his homework, which he finished way too quickly for once. Once he was done with the homework for all of next week he paused to ask himself whether he should have saved some for the next detention session, but decided not to dwell on it. He opted to work his way further through the later chapters of his biology book. Since he always finished the class work way too quickly, he had decided to instead look at some college materials on his own. 

Every now and then, he peeked over at what Erik was doing. He, too, seemed to be done with his homework (or at least it appeared that way seeing as his table was devoid of any worksheets or books) and had instead taken up scribbling something down in a notebook. Charles was of the painfully curious type and would have really liked to see what it was that Erik was writing, but when he tried to scoot a little closer, Mr. Howlett cast a warning glance his way. 

All in all, detention was a mind-numbingly boring experience. Pretty tough to get through, but at least it took no effort at all. Regardless, Charles felt immense relief when Mr. Howlett finally released them. Before he even had the chance to get up, most of their fellow detentioneers left in a scramble to get home quickly, leaving Erik, Charles and a few kids Charles had never really seen around much before to trail behind. 

When they got out, Charles was surprised to see that the sun was already starting to go down. As he walked towards the parking lot, he saw Erik look at his phone, frowning. 

“Everything alright with you?“

Erik looked up in surprise. “Oh, yeah, sure. I just realised that my bus connection doesn‘t operate today for some stupid reason. Guess I just gotta walk home.“

“Oh dear, it‘s getting dark though. Where do you live?“  
Erik mumbled something so low that Charles had trouble catching it.

“Wait, did I hear that correctly? That‘s at the other side of town! You can‘t possibly intend to walk that far?“

“It‘s not that big of a deal. I‘ve walked home plenty of times before. Movement is healthy, you know?“

“No, this is out of the question. It will be dark long before you‘ll arrive. I can drive you.“

“Charles, I am not dependent on your charity. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.“ 

“I am not offering out of charity, I am offering because you are my friend and I enjoy your company. It‘s no bother to me taking a detour. In fact, I am happy for any chance I get not to be at my own home.“

Erik turned his eyes skywards in defeat. “Alright, just this once. Just know that you are not obligated to do this for me, yeah?“

Once in the car, they fell silent for a bit. It wasn‘t an awkward quiet. Charles actually felt surprisingly at peace with Erik sitting next to him in the car. While Charles frequently participated in pleasant chatter with others, he sometimes felt the need for a bit of calm despite his personable character. 

It was Erik who broke the silence eventually. “So...did you like Logan‘s poem today?“

“Are you asking me this just to poke fun at my bad taste in poetry again?“

Charles saw Erik shift in his seat next to him, like the question made him uneasy. “It‘s not that I want to make fun of you. I just don‘t get what makes you like these poems so much.“

“Honestly? I like how if you put them all together they form a whole story. You just have to figure out which bit goes where.“

“What kind of story do you think it is then?“

“I haven‘t really made up my mind about it just yet. I think it‘s about this person who struggles a lot, but they try to give themselves a purpose again. I like that reading the poems makes me almost feel like I am sitting down with them and they tell me about what is going on in their life.“

“So what did you make of today‘s poem? Where does it belong in your story?“

“I‘d have to see where to tape it on my wall first, but I am fairly sure that it comes before the last one we spoke about. The one with the bridge.“

“Why?“

“Because in the last one the person got better but in this one they aren‘t doing as great. I think that maybe the one with the bridge is supposed to be the last bit.“

“You seem to put a lot of thought into all that.“ 

Charles cast a side-eye glance at Erik, but could once again not tell whether this comment was meant as an attack or not. “Yeah, I guess I do. I think I know most of them by heart now.“

“Really? So you could jst go off and recite any of them right now?“

“I‘m pretty sure I could, yeah.“

They fell silent again for a moment. Charles took a deep breathe.

“Bridge over Shallow Water

Three years ago  
Or maybe four years ago from when you are reading this  
Maybe ten from when I read this out to you  
Maybe a lifetime and more ago

I was so tired  
Just so very tired I wasn‘t even sad anymore  
I was never upset or angry  
I was there  
And all I knew was that I didn‘t want to be there anymore  
I went to dispose of myself  
By dropping down from a tall bridge over shallow water

I‘ve always been told that I look very young  
Perhaps not anymore by the time you read this  
But on that day I must have looked very young  
Younger even than I really was  
And so very frightened

There was an old man  
He yelled at me  
Yelled and clung onto me like the world depended on it  
He screamed about my mother  
And what she would think of this  
About whether I had any shame  
And something about God  
So I climbed back over the railing  
Put my shoes back on while he still yelled at me  
Stood silently crying  
Up until when he grabbed me and said he would call the police  
So I pushed him  
Pushed this old man who just saved my life

Didn‘t push hard enough to push him over  
I was very young and very weak after all  
But pushed im hard enough to let me go  
And ran like hell  
Which wasn‘t very quickly for I spent all my days in bed  
And I was very tired and very weak  
But quicker still than an old man who saved my life  
Or maybe he didn‘t run after me  
Maybe he called the police  
But they didn‘t find me  
Maybe he couldn‘t describe me very well 

I ran into the woods and then upstream for a bit  
And because I didn‘t know any other bridge  
I took my shoes off again in the middle of November  
Bundled up my pants in them and waded through the river  
Put my shoes back on and ran all the way back home  
Where I went to bed like nothing happened

How could I have wanted to die without ever having played the guitar?

Now I am still here  
Sitting on a train crowded with strangers  
On a long way home  
From a long day out  
Working

I am grateful for this moment  
Grateful for this life  
For all the work that went into it  
For the dirty train seat  
And the city smell  
For this sunset obscured by buildings hitting city skies  
Thank heavens I may end up growing old  
Crossing tall bridges over shallow water...“

Charles trailed off, both because he realised that he just quoted a ridiculously long bit of poem at something that could only be perceived as a very vague challenge and because he forgot the last stanza of the poem. For a lack of things to say, he turned towards Erik briefly before he remembered to keep his eyes on the road.

“And that‘s when you came barrelling in and interrupted the reading and now I forgot the end.“

The brief flicker of a passing street lights illuminated Erik‘s face just as his lips quirked up into a little smile. “I think that‘s actually a good place to stop. I like that better than the actual end. -Also, we are nearly there. Turn left at the next street corner and then it‘s all the way at the end of the road. It‘s the little yellow house.“

Charles nodded, but then raised his eyebrows as a sudden thought occurred to him.

“How do you even remember the end of the poem?“

“Huh?“

“I mean, you‘ve always been late to class when we spoke about the poems recently. You always end up missing large chunks of it and never take any of the sheets with the poems on them. Yet you seem to know at least this one well enough to have an opinion on how the end could be improved. When do you read them?“

“Oh, uh, Logan gives them to me after class usually. I do some extra homework to make up for my absences.“

“Oh. Okay. I thought that- Oh, never mind.“ Then Charles‘ brow creased in confusion. „“Did Lo- I mean Mr Howlett actually forget to give you today‘s poem over our chat earlier?“

Next to him, Erik fidgeted uneasily. “Yeah, uh, he must have. Oh no. Should have thought about it. I guess I‘ll have to pick it up next week then.“

Charles would have offered to make a photocopy for Erik, but just as he was considering whether it would be sensible to extend that offer, they pulled up in front of Erik‘s house.

Erik‘s house was indeed very small, by Charles‘ standards anyway (though he knew that his family‘s wealth skewed his perception somewhat). The plot surrounding the house was nearly bare but entirely overgrown with various weeds. There were no cars parked out front and the windows were all dark. Since the streetlights didn‘t extend all the way down to this part of the road it was cast in an eerie far-off glow that made it seem almost dilapidated.

“Aren‘t your parents home?“ _Great question, Charles. Like he would have had to walk home if his parents were here to pick him up._

“No.“, Erik simply said. Charles heard his jaw snap shut at the end of the word.

For a heartbeat or two the boys just looked straight ahead out of the windshield at Erik‘s home. 

“Hey, uhm, can I offer you a cup of tea- or, or something? It was nice of you to take me here and...well, it would just be nice if you came in and have something to drink, I guess. Just- You don‘t have to, it‘s just a thought.“

“You know, a cup of tea sounds lovely just about now.“

And this is how Charles followed Erik in through the front door. For a moment, they stood in pitch darkness as the door fell shut behind them and Erik fumbled around to find the lightswitch. Charles‘ first thought was that it smelled odd. Kind of like a hospital.

When the lights finally came on, Charles suddenly felt the need to carefully compose his face as to not to gape at the picture that unfolded around them. They stood in a glaringly empty hallway with doorless frames at each wall except for the one with the front door. To the left, the kitchen was revealed. Charles could see all the way to garage, which also didn‘t have a door but a mostly disassembled car that was jacked up ready to be tinkered with. To his right he saw an equally as doorless bathroom. His stomach dropped when his wandered to look straight ahead at the living room.

In there, all the furniture appeared to have been pushed to the sides to make room for a hospital bed that took center stage. Around it loomed various kinds of medical equipment that Charles only vaguely understood the purpose of. The bed itself was empty, the sheets made up but dented, like someone sat down on them after folding the sheets. He realised belatedly that that was what the smell must have been. Disinfectant. It smelled like a hospital room because there actually _was_ a hospital room in Erik‘s living room.

It probably wasn‘t hard for Erik to be able to tell what Charles was thinking. He gestured towards the entirety of the hallway “I know it‘s a lot to take in when you aren‘t...used to seeing this, but we had to move her down here when she couldn‘t manage to make it up the stairs anymore. We removed the doors so it would be easier for her to get around in her wheelchair. -And so I‘d be able to hear her more easily if...if something happens.“

Charles didn‘t know what he should say so he just nodded. He wondered whether he should ask any follow-up questions, but it seemed that Erik understood without him having to say it.

“It‘s my mother. She‘s- Well, at this point it‘s easier to say what she doesn‘t have rather than what she does have. She‘s unwell, spending a few days at the hospital right now. She should be back come Monday to- to just be here, I guess?“

Again, Charles just nodded and it seemed to be enough of a reply for Erik, who turned towards the kitchen, gestured for Charles to take a seat and began to prepare a cup of tea for each of them. A few silent minutes later, Charles had a steaming cup of blueberry muffin tea placed in front of him.

He gave Erik a long look over the rim of his cup as he warmed up his hands. “So...are you all by yourself for the time being or...?“

Erik shrugged. “Right now? Yeah. I don‘t have any siblings or anything and my dad‘s...now what‘s that polite way of saying it – Not in the picture? So as long as my mum is in the hospital and the nurses aren‘t dropping by it‘s just me.“

“Isn‘t that really lonely?“

“Being lonely is the least of my concerns for now. I‘ve been having a really bad conscience about leaving the house whenever she is around. At least I can be sure that they‘ll call me should – should something happen for as long as she is in the hospital. I know she likes it better being here than in a hospice where she‘d only have dying people for company. Still, it‘s...suffocating. I feel selfish for saying that, but that‘s what it is .“

Erik‘s voice sounded strange. Charles took notice of the way he turned his head away and the way his throat worked like he was desperately trying to swallow something down.

“I hope you know that you are not actually being selfish though, right? I remember when my dad – when he died, I used to be so angry. It happened so suddenly, too. One day he went to work as usual, kissed me goodbye, said he might be a bit late for picking me up from football practice, closed the door and that‘s it. He never came back. His lab blew up and just like that it was like he never existed. And I was so angry at him. I felt like I would have deserved to have my dad come home. I didn‘t get what I did wrong for him to be taken away from me. I was so angry at him and then I was angry at myself for being so angry. But that‘s just what we do to fill the space someone else has left. We shouldn‘t hate ourselves for not being able to make up for the absence somebody else has left us.“

Erik smiled a sad smile. Charles was aware that Erik probably already knew all about the death of Brian Xavier. It had made the national news the day it happened both because of the magnitude of the accident and because of the prominence of Charles‘ father. Of course, it also was common knowledge around these parts because this was were the Xaviers lived and knew a lot of the locals personally. Especially Brian had always been very involved in the local community and well-liked among the town‘s citizens. For a while, he had entertained the idea of becoming mayor one day. 

Charles and Raven in particular had been offered a lot of support just after the accident, though it wasn‘t humanly possible to even accept half of it with the sheer amount of offers of pasta bakes and shoulders to cry on. Charles had only wanted to stay home and forget the world existed for the most part and Raven had been to defiant to accept any help until eventually the comments and offers dwindled and all that was left was the sad look by a passing stranger upon hearing their last names.

Briefly, Charles wondered what it would have been like if he had been alone like Erik. Sharon had by no means been a great or particularly involved mother, but she had at least provided them with a home and expensive therapy sessions when she herself could not muster the courage to hug them goodnight anymore. He had Raven for support. Who would take care of Erik if the worst were to happen? Would he remain just like this, having tea by himself in a doorless kitchen?

Erik and Charles sat talking at the kitchen table for a long while, their conversation eventually turning to more pleasant topics such as the last novels they read and why big sports events were rubbish (it‘s because of the people) though they both wouldn‘t mind to go to Glasgow to see a football match some time. By the time Charles decided it was time to leave, they had already talked well into the night.

Just as he was about to say his goodbyes, Erik looked at him seriously and said, “How do you know that the person in the poems is getting better rather than getting worse after a short good phase?“

“Now just what kind of boring story would that be if the protagonist ended up exactly where they started out?“

Erik smiled. “I like that.“, And then, with a little bout of laughter, he added, “I can‘t believe that you actually taped up all these poems on your bedroom wall.“

“Well yeah, I bet you‘d be even more impressed if you actually saw it in person. You should visit me next time.“

“I‘d love to, if you‘ll have me.“

“It‘s a date then. Good night, Erik.“

“Good night, Charles. Get home safely.“

As Charles watched the lights of Erik‘s house disappear in the rearview mirror like a little boat far-off at sea the phrase ‘It‘s a date then‘ echoed back and forth in his head. Some unknown part of him was steadily warming him up all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, I sure wonder what Erik was jotting down in that notebook. 
> 
> I actually made myself sad writing this even though I am fairly sure that that feeling won't carry over to anyone else. I hope you guys enjoyed this anyway. 
> 
> In case you are wondering just how clueless Charles could possibly be, you haven't even seen half of it yet. Stay tuned (just not too tuned. I hope this sudden wave of inspiration will hold up a bit longer, but I can't promise anything).
> 
> Stay healthy, friends.


	7. Of Good Siblings and Fuzzy Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Charles have a long chat.
> 
> There is teasing.
> 
> There is great siblinghood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...this is kind of different from the rest of the story?  
> It's basically just siblings being sappy to the max and a lot of dialogue (even though I think dialogue is like the thing I do second worst right after poems). 
> 
> I am great at being a sibling though (I imagine. None of my siblings ever said that, I don't think, but I'm sure they feel it. Or I hope so, anyway. For real though guys, my siblings are the greatest people I know and I love them so much and I try to tell them any chance I get. I hope that they know that I mean it.) 
> 
> It's basically just Raven being a very nice supportive super sister. You go, Raven!
> 
> Have a good time reading this you people. I hope you are well.

When Charles fell into bed that night, his energy drained so far he just barely made the effort to wrestle down his jeans and change into a pair of sweatpants while already lying down before eventually giving up when it came to his upper body and deciding that sleeping in a cardigan was fine, really, he still had some half-formed thought buzzing around his head. It was not yet articulate enough to be put into a sentence, but felt vaguely important. It was something about the shape Erik‘s mouth made when he told Charles that he liked his interpretation of the poetry and the feeling that still had the hairs in the back of Charles‘ neck standing on end.

Before Charles could even manage to get cosy enough to start dozing off, he heard his room door creak quietly, a brief flash of light and a barely perceptible scurrying, then a sudden dip of the matress as Raven threw herself down next him, pulling the blanket over the both of them in one smooth motion. 

“Hey there, egghead.“

“I‘ll have you know that my head is perfectly normally shaped, thank you very much.“

“That‘s only because you‘ve never shaved it before. It‘s got that great egg potential, believe me. I‘ve got an eye for these things.“

“It‘s a great thing then that I have no intention of shaving them off.“

“For now, you mean. You saw your dad, he had barely any hair left by the time he was twenty-five. And you know how that comb-over style worked out for him. These things are genetic, you know. Maybe you should get over with it now, while you‘re still ahead and can pretend that it‘s a deliberate choice.“

“I don‘t know who you‘ve made a bet with this time Raven, but I‘m not taking the bait either way.“

Charles couldn‘t make out Raven‘s face in the dark, but he could feel her giggle reverbate where their knees touched. “You sure Charles? I might share the footage of Alex doing what he promised he‘d do if I won with you as a reward.“

“No thanks, I‘ll pass. Knowing you guys it‘s probably either illegal or gross or dangerous or most likely all three and I don‘t want to see someone go to jail or die.“

“What do you even use YouTube for then?“

“What kind of weird YouTube videos do you watch, Raven?“ Charles asked, actually briefly taken aback.

“Are we shaming each other for our viewing habits right now? Because if we are, say the word and I can pull up your browser history at any time.“

“No you can‘t, it‘s password protected.“

“Yeah, and I got all your passwords.“

“You are bluffing.“, Charles retorted. Then, when Raven remained quiet, he uncertainly added, “You are bluffing, right? Raven? Where would you even get all my passwords from?“

“Anyways, where were you after school today? I waited here all evening to ask you about detention. When only Cain came home I was scared that they tore you apart. I was like five minutes from assembling a crew to search for your corpse when you came home just now.“

“Detention was fine. I drove Erik home afterwards and we had some tea.“

“Erik actually let you drive him home and asked you in? You guys are getting pretty chummy, huh?“

Charles felt his face warm up for no discernable reason. “Yeah, I guess. Getting into a fight together does that to you, it seems.“

“See Charles, that‘s what I‘ve been preaching. You should go out with me and the crew some time. Nothing makes for a bonding moment as great as punching some fascists in the face together.“

“Yeah, no, I don‘t think that that‘s my scene. You know violence is not my thing.“

“Cain‘s face says otherwise right now.“

“Still a no.“

Raven sighed wistfully. “Shame. Erik said you stood your ground quite well.“

Charles perked up at that. “Did he really?“

“Woah there, someone‘s getting excited. It‘s not enough to listen to Erik gush about you all the time, now, is it? If I had known that you guys would hit it off that well I probably would have bad-mouthed you to each other all the time to keep you guys to myself.“

Charles heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “What do you mean Erik gushes about me? Like what?“ 

“I mean, Erik is a fairly underwhelmed person in general so his kind of gushing is sort of more nuanced than it is for most people, but he told me that he thinks you throw a good punch and that he likes that you like his poems so in Erik‘s world that‘s like peak adoration. If he were a more expressive person he‘d probably sing praise about you every time you entered the door.“

“Oh. And here I thought it was something about me. Being able to tell that Rilke is good only takes like half a brain.“

Raven‘s little eruption of laughter abruptly stopped and turned into a thoughtful silence. Charles, who so far had been half-turned away from her and in the process of letting the additional warmth of another person under the covers next to him lull him to sleep, turned around to face her properly. Not that it helped much as the vague silhouette of her face betrayed no emotion. 

“Is something the matter?“

“What? No. I was just thinking. Also, I have half a brain and I think Rilke sucks.“

“How? Can‘t you tell how beautiful it is? Don‘t you even have a single favourite?“

“No, I don‘t. And I swear to God Charles, if you start quoting any damn poem at me right now I will ban you.“

“Ban me from what? This bed? _My_ bed? My room?“ Charles laughed.

“Yeah, exactly, you punk. I will kick you out and take away all of your poetry. I will get you banned from every library there is.“

“Get me banned on account of what? Don‘t I have to do something to get banned?“ The end of Charles‘ reply got party smothered by the pillow Raven hit him over the head with.

“You don‘t give me credit for how creative I am.“

Charles elbowed Raven in the ribs, making them dissolve into giggles while poking and pushing each other until, suddenly, Raven kicked Charles‘ shin.

“Ow! What the fuck Raven? Are you wearing boots in my bed?“

“Uh...You‘re making it sound like you want the answer to be no and I don‘t want to disappoint you.“

“Man Raven, this really hurts. Are you wearing _steel cap boots_ in my bed?“

“What other kind of boots are there?“

“You know Raven, the remarkable thing is that I honestly don‘t know whether you are joking or not.“

“That‘s what makes me so lovable.“

“That‘s one way I wouldn‘t put it.“

“Oh, shut up. You know full well I‘m your favourite sister.“

“That you are, but you are lucky that you don‘t have any competition. Ow!“ Charles‘ reply trailed off into a pained shout as Raven kicked him into the other shin, hard.

“Get used to it. Your new crush happens to think that steel cap boots are pretty great, too.“

“He-he‘s not my crush or anything!“ Charles sputtered hastily.

“I was joking just now, but your reply makes me think that I am spot on.“

“No! No, I don‘t have a crush on Erik of all people.“

“On Erik of all people? I don‘t know whether you‘ve got your eyes checked recently, but that dude‘s hot. Knowing the kind of people you usually have a crush on that would be a massive improvement.“

“I don‘t have a crush on anyone usually so there‘s that.“

“No real people anyway.“

“Oh my God Raven, I tell you one thing one time and you never let me live it down.“

“You know, I always thought that practicing kissing with a pillow only happens in movies. Learning that my brother not only did that, but didn‘t even imagine a real person doing it is kinda embarrassing. Sometimes I am so glad that we are not actually related.“

Charles felt like he could have cooked dinner for a mid-size family on his face just then from how hard he was blushing. “Isn‘t it less awkward to imagine someone fictional rather than someone I actually know?“

“Generally yes, but I am fairly sure that‘s not the case when the person you are picturing is Mr Spock.“ 

“Oh come on, don‘t pretend you never had any embarrassing crushes, Raven.“

“I sure did, but I will take them to my grave.“

“I hope you mean the knowledge of who it was and not the actual people.“

“Of course I mean the actual people, Charles. I expect a proper Egyptian burial worthy of a queen. You have to fill my grave chamber with truck loads of nice things and entomb the people I want to take to the afterlife with me. I wouldn‘t trust anyone else with this.“

“I don‘t know whether I am supposed to be flattered or offended that I am apparently not a person you would like to take to the afterlife with you.“

“I would, but who would avenge my death then?“

“You know, I do love you, Raven.“ Charles tried to put all the affection he was feeling in that precise moment into his reply.

“You know who else you do love, Charles?“

“What?“

“Not what, who!“

“Jesus Christ, Raven, I do not have a crush on Erik Lehnsherr!“

“Your blush says otherwise!“

“It‘s dark, you can‘t even see it!“

“Okay, okay. So let‘s pretend it‘s not Erik-“

“It isn‘t.“

“Uh-huh. So let‘s pretend it‘s not Erik. Don‘t you dare think I haven‘t noticed that something has been off recently. You have been all blushy and staring off into the distance and reading poetry-“

“That Erik recommended to me! I was doing it for a friend and I just really liked it.“

“So, spit it out. Who is it? Is it Hank?“

“What? Why would you think I had a crush on Hank?“

“I don‘t know, you guys hang out a lot. Also, Hank is kinda cute.“

Charles broke into laughter at that. “Well, I suppose he isn‘t too bad to look at, but by that logic – him being cute and me hanging out with him a lot – you could just as easily have a crush on him. You guys do a lot of stuff together.“ 

Raven‘s voice was a lot softer all of a sudden when she replied. “Your point being?“

After a moment of awkward silence, Charles cleared his throat. “Okay, moving on. Let‘s pretend I never heard that. – Also, I won‘t ever entomb Hank with you, I want to be clear on that. – I mean, Erik and I, we get along well and he –Okay yeah, maybe he is good-looking and, uh, very cool and surprisingly nice once you get to know him and he has that nice German tea I have to look up later because I may make it my next addiction – But, realistically speaking, if I had a crush on him – which I don‘t, by the way – but if I did, where would that even leave me? It would just drive a new friendship to shit.“

“I‘m not sure I‘m following.“ 

“Somebody like Erik would never want me!“

“Why?“ 

Charles felt like pulling out his hair for a moment (which he reminded himself he really shouldn‘t in fear that there may be actually be some truth to her teasing from earlier). Yet the simple way in which Raven stated her question made it actually seem like she had no understanding of what was so glaringly obvious.

“Okay, so even if it weren‘t for the looks and all –“

“What‘s wrong with your looks? You look great. People _swoon_ over you. Your eyes are so nice I am actually sometimes sad we are not related, weird pillow smooching be damned.“

“I have an egg head! Also, looks aside, Erik and I are worlds apart. Erik is cool and kind of popular, but in that bad boy way and he‘s all sophisticated with his poetry and he‘s fashionable, but without making an effort. He‘s like a teen girl magazine cover boy come alive. And despite all this he is so nice. He protected me from Cain when he could have just as easily walked out and I would have been none the wiser.“

“I am pretty sure the actual teen girl magazine cover boys are also alive. Or I sure hope so, at least. But Charles, witty banter aside, you do know that you are a great catch, yeah?“

Charles scoffed. Raven slapped him lightly on the arm even as she moved in closer and wrapped herself around him.

“No, really, Charles. You are funny and the smartest person I know and you are nice and you have a way with people without ever seeming fake. You are everything I admire in a person and I love you so, so much. Don‘t you ever let anybody make you think that you are not deserving of that. Also, how would you even know whether you have a chance with anything if you won‘t even talk about it.“

“I won‘t talk about it because I don‘t have a crush on Erik.“ Charles said through the lump in his throat. His eyes were burning. Raven had at some point started gently rubbing his back and he went and leaned his forehead against hers. He felt her breath on his face as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Seriously Charles, how can such a small person hold so much stubbornness? You must have used up enough for a lifetime by now. What are you gonna do when you are old and have to be a hardhead? Are you just gonna be a mild old man smiling sedately at his twenty grandchildren?“

“You say that like it‘s a bad thing.“

“I can already see you in my mind sitting on the front porch of a house filled with stray animals surrounded by the worst raised family ever because you just always let them do what they want when they want and there are going to be loads of them because you start swooning the second you see a child and because you will grow up to be a rich white person you can just adopt anyone.“

“Again, I don‘t see the problem here.“ In spite of still being a bit teary-eyed, Charles felt a laugh bubble up. “I am going to be a great dad, just so you know.“

“Yeah, that‘s what I‘m talking about. Take some of that sass and save it for when you have your horde of children to reprimand.“

“It‘s not like you will be any help in not spoiling them. You will probably be their global activist jetset aunt who just drops by every so often to shower them in gifts and give them terribly dangerous revolutionary ideas just to disappear just in time to avoid the fall-out.“

“If you think I would leave without watching the chaos unfold you are wrong.“

“Our future family is already doomed.“

“Yeah, no doubt about it. But who can blame us? We had shit role models.“

“Hey Raven?“

“Yeah?“

Charles hesitated for what must have been just a fraction of a moment but strangely felt much longer. “Is Erik actually all alone right now?“

“What, do you want to pay him a visit?“ Raven giggled but quickly fell silent again when she noticed Charles‘ serious manner. 

“Yes, he is. I think there is a neighbour swinging by to look after Erik every so often, but Erik doesn‘t like him much. – So he tries to avoid seeing that dude like crazy. I offered to let him stay here over night a couple of times, but he gets really freaked out about being away from the landline in their house for too long. Apparently the hospital messed up something with his mobile phone number a couple of times so he didn‘t get notified when something happened to his mum. I think he wants to be there when – _if_ something bad happens.“

Charles was once again at a loss for words in reaction to Erik‘s situation. For a little while, he and Raven just stared into the dark. Then, Raven shifted to move partly off of the bed. Charles felt a pang of disappointment as he expected her to stay in his room at least until he fell asleep. He didn‘t like to admit it, but when they were children Raven used to regularly sleep in his bed to protect him from the monsters he thought he could see in vast blackness of the night blanketing the mansion. While he had overcome his fear of the dark, he still slept noticeably better with Raven next to him but didn‘t dare to ask her to stay outright anymore. Sometimes she would come by to chat in the evening and they would still fall asleep like this. He treasured those moments.

Instead of leaving, however, Raven reached inside her backpack she had brought with her and pulled out a roughly square-shaped thing Charles could not quite make out in the dark.

“So, here‘s this neat thing I actually came here to show you.“

“What is it?“

“Just listen.“ With that, Raven started moving her fingers and produced some high but pleasant tinkling sounds not unlike a music box. Charles could not discern any clear melody, but he smiled sleepily nontheless.

“That‘s nice.“ He mumbled.

“It‘s a kalimba.“

Charles hummed. “How did you learn to play?“

“I didn‘t. I just ordered it online and as it turns out you can just about press any tine and it always sounds kind of nice.“

 _Raven and her random online purchases._ Charles thought fondly. “Yeah. I like it.“ 

They both smiled, though they could not see. Raven continued her improvised little melodie as Charles turned onto his stomach and pulled the blanket as far up as it would go. He felt the satisfaction of a day well spent even when it chance to go awry easily settle upon him as he let the quiet sound lull him to sleep.

Just as he was about to slip away, Raven quietly said, “Good night Charles, you are my favourite brother.“

“Good night Raven. I love you so much.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this will sound weird but this made me miss my brother. 
> 
> Also, like, did you notice that Raven told Charles a totally important detail and it went completely over his head? Ten points and a batch of biscuits for the person who finds it and makes me feel like it was obvious enough.
> 
> I also noticed that my capitalization in the chapter titles so far was horrible so I will go back now and change that.
> 
> I can't believe how much time I spent on this compared to the essay I handed in for one of my finals the other day.
> 
> Edit: In case you are wondering what tea I am referring to, it's this one: https://www.teekanne.de/shop/de-de/blueberry-muffin.html (I know a bunch of other German people who think that it's debateable whether this tea is actually good but this is my favourite and it's great and you can fight me-- but actually don't because then I can have more tea to myself on my own)  
> Also, while I'm making recommendations, here's an unrelated one: Noah Kahan is a cool musician. I've listened to him while writing this and I am so looking forward to seeing him live later this year.


End file.
